Nicole W. CooleyPro-Life Activist, Speaker and Author ofInto the Light: Rape, Abortion and the Truth that Set Me Free

Just touch one, Lord. . . .  My repeated prayer ever since I first told my story almost twenty years ago has been the same -- for the Lord to somehow use my saga of shame and regret to help someone else.  He's always answered.  The first time I shared my testimony publicly, a woman came up to me afterwards and said, "Thank you for sharing.  My mother forced me to have an abortion when I was sixteen.  I have always felt it was wrong.  You're the first person to validate what I've always known."  But, my favorite answer to that simple prayer lies in the story I'm about to tell.

First, let me tell you my own journey.  I grew up in a Christian home.  As a teenager, I remember my father telling me, "Abortion is wrong.  I'm pro-life except in cases of rape or to save the life of the mother."  As with most of my father's opinions, I took his and made it my own.

A short time later, my biology teacher told the class to write a birth plan for an unplanned pregnancy, and I refused:  "If I never get pregnant, there won't be an unplanned pregnancy.  Abstinence works 100% of the time."  I never contemplated at age 15 that just a few years later, my "plan" would be tested -- and I'd learn the hard way that this "plan" fell way short of preparing me for reality. . . .

I met him on an airplane while traveling home for Christmas.  He offered to get down my overhead luggage for me, and then refused to give me my suitcase.  As I followed him off the plane, still asking for my suitcase, he said, "I'd like to carry it a while longer, if that's okay.  Would you like to get something to drink?"  Surprisingly, I decided I liked him, and agreed to give him my phone number. 

When he called a couple of weeks later, I invited him to church instead of going for a drink.  He counter-invited me to attend his church.  Thrilled he was also a "Christian," I readily agreed.  When I told him, "I'm waiting for marriage for intimacy, so if sex is what you're after, we should end this now," he assured me, "You're preaching to the choir."  He lied.

I'm convinced now that he was in the later stages of a significant pornography addiction.  I can't rationally explain his behavior any other way.  You see, a pornography addiction left unchecked, will always lead to acting out what you read about, and look at.  Over time, your conscience is seared, and just like a cocaine addict, you'll do anything to get your "fix."  For him, I would be his fix -- whether I agreed or not.

When his initial attempts to lure me into bed were futile, he turned to the date rape drug.  

One night I had a horrible dream.  In my dream, I was back on my old college campus -- only now, I was in the later stages of pregnancy.  Late at night, I went from dorm to dorm, looking for a place to sleep.  Desperately tired, everyone turned me away.  Finally, my former boyfriend let me in, but told me I'd have to use the top bunk.  With difficulty, I climbed up, and subsequently fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, I woke up and told my "boyfriend" about my dream.  His eyes were as big as saucers.  At that point, I still didn't know.  But then I went to the bathroom and something unusual fell out of my body.  Plus I had a growing awareness of soreness, and I knew something was wrong.  I ran out, and yelled, "I need to go to the emergency room!"  He convinced me nothing had happened, but two weeks later, I learned the truth. 

Denial has a sedative effect.  People who have never been there like to say, "I'd never allow myself to be abused like that!"  When you have the starring role in your own horrible TV reality show, it just doesn't seem possible.  In fact, your mind helps you to believe it's not really happening in order to preserve your sanity.  I couldn't believe my boyfriend -- the man my heart had set on marrying -- would rape me.  So, I believed him instead . . . , until two weeks later when two positive pregnancy tests forced me into a reality I wasn't prepared to face.

In the days and weeks after realizing I'd been raped, I walked around in a daze.  My dayplanner for work usually had very little "white space" due to all of my notes.  The near-blank pages after the rape reflected my distracted and zombie-like mental state.  I merely went through the motions of life.  

At the same time, the world's standards demanded I make a life or death decision for another human being.  I just couldn't.  So, I leaned on those I trusted most -- my family, my best friend, and my church.

I tell people now that if you have the honor of being asked for your opinion in the case of an unplanned pregnancy, be prepared to give a real answer.  Telling someone in crisis, "Whatever you want to do, I'll support you" is of no real help at all.  She's asking for definitive advice.  She needs to hear, "I know this feels horrible and you can't see how you're going to get through this, but you will.  I'll walk with you every step. You are going to make it.  You're strong.  You can do this.  I know nine months seems like forever, but it's really not.  Don't make a decision today that you will regret for the rest of your life.  Choose life.  It's the best choice for both of you."

Unfortunately, the only specific advice came from my pastor.  She told me, "Let me put your heart at ease.  In the eyes of the church, any decision, prayerfully considered, is okay.  In your case, I think you should have an abortion.  You need to be able to move past this.  You should have an abortion."  

She went on to tell me about her two daughters who had also faced unplanned pregnancies.  One had chosen adoption, the other abortion, and both were equally good decisions, she said.  She dismissively added, "There's a couple in the church who want to adopt, but, no, you shouldn't talk to them.  You need to have an abortion."

I remember my heart telling me, "Isn't there something in Psalms about this?"  My heart began to break as the door slowly closed inside.  I felt I didn't have a choice.  I was convinced that nobody would adopt my baby with my having a 50% chance of carrying the gene for neurofibromatosis (a horrible disease my Dad battled most of his adult life.)  I began to steel myself for the abortion.  I felt like a lamb being led to her death inside.  I didn't believe I had a choice.

After the abortion, I learned there is something worse than being raped.  The abortion felt like being raped again -- only worse, because this time, I had consented to the assault.  In both cases, men assaulted me physically.  The second trauma -- the abortion, shut me down emotionally, putting me over the edge.  

It took four years to begin the slow path out of denial and into healing in Christ.  If it hadn't been for the wonderful husband God sent me, I don't know how I would be here today.  He told me from the beginning, "I love you, but what you did was wrong."  That chink in my denial helped me years later, after the birth of our first son, John, to finally see the truth.  It shattered my heart.  But, it needed to break . . . so God could put it back together again.

A "Divine appointment" took place a few years ago when I spoke at my church.  Plans for me to speak had been rescheduled several times over many months until the Sunday in November when I finally shared a ministry update with our church.  I now work with the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform, sharing abortion victim images primarily on college campuses across Virginia and the Southeast.  That day, I prefaced my talk by saying my words weren't meant to condemn anyone, and not to believe the Enemy if they felt that way.  

As a post-abortive woman myself, I understood that misplaced guilt all too well.  I explained the reasoning behind our work, citing the work of successful historical social reformers like William Wilberforce, Lewis Hine, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr..  And, I showed pictures of first trimester abortions -- little babies, with limbs and appendages torn from their tiny bodies.  It's devastating to see for the first time.  And, I had no idea there was a pregnant rape victim in the audience that day. . . .

Morgan told me two months later that she'd been there.  Sitting in the audience, it had been a rare Sunday for her to be in church at all.  She told me, "You were there for me."  

The night she'd been raped, she had snuck out of her home to hang out with friends.  Gang-raped on the way home, she hid her ruined clothes, and told nobody, except a few close friends what had happened.  When she discovered she was pregnant, her high school friends arranged for her to have an abortion the following Saturday.  She had told her parents she had a sporting event in Washington D.C. so they wouldn't be suspicious when she left for the abortion.

But, then, in church, she heard my testimony and saw the pictures -- and she knew she couldn't do it.  

Nicole Cooley and Morgan

Morgan gained the courage to tell her parents what had happened -- despite feeling ashamed she had snuck out of the house and that she'd planned an abortion.  They rallied around her, and supported her in choosing adoption for her baby instead.  During her pregnancy, I was able to connect her to Save The 1 and she joined their private Facebook for birthmothers from rape, so she wouldn't have to be alone in this.  A family at the church put her in contact with the perfect family for her baby.  Months later she gave birth, and named him "Justice."

The pain from losing my son Matthew is the single greatest regret of my life.  It crushed me.  Abortion forces a mother to turn against her own flesh and blood.  It's self-destructive like no other trauma -- the scars run deep.  Rape is traumatic too, no doubt.  But, compounding the trauma of rape with the second trauma of abortion is contraindicated.  Abortion hurts rape victims; it never helps them.  The best choice for the mother who has conceived in rape is to continue the pregnancy, surrounded by supportive family and friends, or through the support of a pregnancy resource center.

In His Word, God promises that all things will work together for good to those who are called according to His purposes (Romans 8:28).  For me, Morgan's story is proof of His promise.  My baby died and broke this mother's heart.  But, God used my pain and suffering to propel me into ministry on behalf of the pre-born.  Because I am willing to share my painful testimony of my son's death, baby Justice is alive, and his mother lives without the regret of abortion.  Indeed, when you save the baby conceived in rape or with a fetal abnormality, you actually save two -- mother and child.  We call ourselves "Save The 1," but when you save the 1 child, you save the mother too -- you save them both.

This piece first appeared at Save The One and is republished here by permission.

As part-time staff for the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform (CBR), I knew Molech would appear at the March for Life this year (January 27, 2017).  Marching with my oldest sons and pro-life friends from church, CBR's latest March for Life exhibit assaulted our eyes and our ears like nothing I'd ever seen produced by CBR.

Unlike my peers on CBR staff, I didn't know what to expect on Friday.  I experienced the horrific Molech exhibit just like everybody else:  We had no idea what we were marching into.

Combined sign panels produced a painting twelve feet high and twenty-four feet wide of a Priest of Molech holding two screaming babies about to be placed in the outstretched, red hot arms and hands of the huge brass idol.  I saw an aborted baby's hand, blinked, and read the words, "Abortion is Child Sacrifice."  Then, another larger than life portrait of Satan.  This painting, larger than the first, stood over thirteen feet in height.  My eyes looked away after a brief glance.  Meanwhile, my ears recoiled from the sound of babies crying from CBR's speakers on both sides of the exhibit.

A short time later, Maggie Egger, a fellow project director with CBR, interviewed me, asking, "Is abortion child sacrifice?"  My answer flowed easily, recapping my personal history of rape and abortion, and for the first time making the connection in words that I sacrificed my child in order to be healed from rape.  Believing a lie from my pastor who urged me to abort, I learned the hard way that abortion would not help me heal, but would compound the trauma, and make healing infinitely more difficult.

In the days following the March, I rapidly struggled to make sense of it all.  Perhaps more so than most, because Facebook acquaintances demanded an explanation I didn't have for them at first.  In the early hours of Sunday morning, God woke me with the thought, "You have now marched to the altar of Molech."

After searching the Scripture for references to Molech, and finding an article by Gregg Cunningham on the topic of child sacrifice, I began to understand the exhibit at the March for Life for the first time. (1)  Had CBR not assaulted me at the March for Life, I doubt I would have ever done so otherwise.  Even with the fourteen revisions of Gregg's article in my email archives, nothing had compelled me to dig further until the March for Life.

As a result of marching to Molech at the March for Life, I now have a deeper understanding of abortion as Biblical child sacrifice.  I do not relish the path to this insight; I'm ashamed it took that much to make me want to really study Biblical child sacrifice for myself.  I previously knew about Biblical child sacrifice on an intellectual level.  Now my heart understood as well.

Consider this:  Simon Sebag Montefiore, international best-selling author of the history text Jerusalem, Vintage Books, (2011), p. 44 says:
     Most dreadful of all, ... [Manasseh] encouraged the sacrifice of children
     at the roaster- the Tophet - in the Valley of Hinnom, south of the city [of
     Jerusalem].  Indeed 'he made his own pass through the fire....'  children
     were said to be taken there as priests beat drums to hide the shrieks of
     the victims from their parents. (1)

Those of us who have participated in the March for Life have now seen Scripture revealed as plainly as possible.

God's people in the Old Testament eventually tore down the altars to Molech at Tobeth (2 Kings 23:10).  It's far past time for His people in the United States to do the same to our altars to Molech, most notably our largest abortion provider, Planned Parenthood.  Instead of trying to justify their existence through Planned Parenthood's imaginary "good" services, it's time to tear them down once and for all. (2)  Eliminating over half a billion dollars in federal funding will be a great start towards that goal.

I'm told the March for Life is supposed to be a celebration of life instead of a funeral for the lost.  The other side doesn't fear our celebration of life.  They do fear our real mourning for the over 58 million lives lost to abortion - because that passion could mean their own demise.  Which view would motivate pro-life people more to make a difference in the coming year for life?

(1) http://www.abortionno.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/Child-Sacrifice-Judaism_rev17-formatted.pdf  Gregg Cunningham, Executive Director of the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform, explains Biblical child sacrifice in this compelling article.

(2) https://www.liveaction.org/what-we-do/investigations/ The recent undercover videos by Live Action on YouTube and Facebook show, in their own words, how 97% of Planned Parenthood centers fail to offer any prenatal care (prenatal vitamins, or even initial basic care), an dhow they use ultrasounds solely to determine the age of the fetus for abortion purposes.

At the Shenandoah Valley Soap Box Derby, a complete stranger asked, "Did you go to Tennessee?"

He seemed really excited about my orange Tennessee hat.  I hated to disappoint him, but "No, my boss did."

Furrowed eyebrows.

I continued, "I am a pro-life activist.  We travel all over the country with our Genocide Awareness Project (GAP), and I always get a hat from each campus."

Who knew a simple baseball cap could spark a conversation about abortion with a complete stranger?

I've been a collector all my life.  I collected Longaberger baskets for years.  I still buy a new basket on occasion, but at over 200 baskets, I'm pretty satisfied there.

As a child, I collected rocks from the different places we lived.  We were a military family that traveled all over the world, so I have lots of rocks, including some neat limestone from England and large round rocks from a beach in Scotland.

But of all my collections, my current one is the most meaningful to me.  You see, every hat has a story.

At the University of Tennessee, I spoke at length with a student who used to be pro-life, but changed her mind in college.  Veteran pro-life apologist Mick Hunt took the lead.  I call him "the philosopher" because he's great at talking with students who are wrestling with higher-level questions.  Her struggles centered around "bodily autonomy" arguments like the "famous violinist" who could be saved by an unwilling kidney donor.  We sat on the grassy knoll across from the display for over an hour.

Mick gently explained how a mother's relationship to her own child is different from a person being forced to offer his kidney to a complete stranger.  I took note of his probing questions to specifically identify the fallacies in her thinking.  I also saw how he carefully dismantled each one in a patient way, not acting superior, but as if he were merely suggesting another way to look at it.

I'm not sure if that young lady is pro-life today or not.  But, I do know she must have wrestled with the things we talked about for some time.  Most people are not solidly pro-life without having first wrestled a bit.

For most people, being pro-life or pro-abortion is a continium; few are truly 100% pro-life or pro-abortion.  Most get hung up somewhere along the line because of those pesky "exceptions" to the rules.  They struggle with the idea of telling a rape victim she should carry to term or with preventing abortion in the case of fetal abnormalities.  That's why GAP is such a great tool for college campuses.  We help students wrestle with the hard questions.  We challenge the status quo of their own opinions.  We put pebbles in their shoes and force them to think.

After watching Mick Hunt at work, I vowed to be ready next time.  I went home and studied the bodily autonomy argument in depth.  At the next GAP, I would be ready to plant a few pebbles of my own.

     I am here today because I deeply regret the abortion I had four weeks after being raped. There is no good reason to have an abortion. All the logical reasons fail to keep your heart from breaking when it’s over.

“For I know the plans that I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.”  Jeremiah 29:11, NASB 

     In my mind, I can still picture the doors of the little white church located in La Bartolina, Mexico.   An active “Volunteer in Mission” at my church, I spent spring break week in Mexico for three consecutive years while I was in high school.  I served as a primary translator and also a teacher for the Vacation Bible School we conducted for the children while our construction teams worked on other projects in the village.  The first big “door” of service to God opened and the experience changed my life forever.

     In Mexico, I tasted the thrill of submitting myself to God’s will and experienced the joy of being used by Him for a greater purpose.  The first time I ever truly allowed myself to be “led by the Holy Spirit” occurred in that tiny Mexican village.  In this little church, the pastor laid hands on me and prayed for me (in Spanish) for what I felt was a call to be a missionary in the future.  Ever since, I have been trying to guess exactly what God had in store for me.  I am always trying to figure out what God wants me to do next...and I rarely get it right.

     In the past fifteen years of my marriage, our family has moved eight times with the US Army.  Every time we arrive at a new location, I have prayed, “God, what would you have me do here?”  In the early years, I would eagerly go out and find “doors” for God to bless.  In Germany, I found the perfect volunteer position and I argued with God in prayer about it as I felt the Holy Spirit telling me not to take it.  “But this will be great, God!” I insisted.  A few months later, mobilized on active duty in a grueling job, I realized God knew best...I now hated this volunteer job which ate up way to much of my precious little personal time.

     Perhaps the most surprising “door” God opened for me came while we were stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado.  With my pro-life experience, I thought the perfect “door” would be to help out at the local pregnancy center.  I completed the training and realized this wouldn’t be the case....with the commute, I would spend two hours for childcare without doing anything but sit in traffic!  Then, God showed me the “door” He had in mind all along...teaching abstinence to soldiers on Fort Carson, literally minutes from my home.  On my very first briefing to a group of soldiers, I said, “If you can get past the irony of an obviously pregnant woman teaching you about abstinence, we’ll get along just fine!”  As usual, God knew best.  A former soldier myself, now married to a soldier, and with my firsthand experience with those who don’t hold to military values, I had a lot to say...and the soldiers listened to me. 

     You’d think by now I would have realized God isn’t going to pick my “door.”  His “door” is always way better than my “door” anyway!  Yet, in my impatience to get started on my next mission for His Kingdom, I had already been “door shopping” when God prompted me to email Dr. Fletcher Armstrong.  Fletcher is the Director for the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform’s Southeast Region.  I had participated with them in an outreach to college students when we lived at Fort Knox, Kentucky.  I have supported CBR financially ever since (over ten years) and strongly believe in what they do.  Imagine my surprise when Fletcher emailed back...he just “happened” to be in Staunton, Virginia for lunch that day which is mere miles from our home in Churchville!

     In my email to Fletcher, I asked for gas money so I would be able to help with GAP in Virginia.  GAP stands for “Genocide Awareness Project.”  (See a short video about GAP at www.prolifeoncampus.com.)  CBR’s operating philosophy comes from the King family.  Dr. Martin Luther King said, “America will not reject racism until America sees racism.”  His niece, Dr. Alveda King, now says, “America will not reject abortion until America sees abortion.”  CBR use pictures to help people see abortion.  The use of images brings the abortion issue into clear focus, away from the abstract theoretical debates.  It is one thing to “say” abortion is wrong; it is quite another to “see” abortion depicted visually.  It is a debate ender. 

     I met Fletcher for lunch the next day.  Not only did he promise to pay for my gas, he offered me my “dream job” as a Project Director for CBR focused on my home state of Virginia.  You see, the call on my heart is, and has been for years, to share my story of rape and abortion to all who will listen.  My “mission field” is the women who are hurting from abortion and more importantly, the women who have yet to make my tragic mistake.  I believe the only way to truly end abortion is to change hearts and minds, one at a time.  In my experience, using pictures along with open dialogue is the very best way to accomplish this goal. 

     In my first months as a “pro-life missionary” I am learning about raising donor support, networking with college students, and how to effectively share the pro-life message.  I keep pinching myself in total disbelief that I am getting paid to do a job that I love.   I traveled with our team to Liberty, Radford, Tennessee- Knoxville and Tennessee-Chatanooga so far this fall, speaking to college students openly about abortion every time.  My mind is crowded with images of their faces and my heart with prayers for them as well.  The future will be busy too...and I love it.  I feel honored to be in a position to be used by God to touch hearts, change minds, and save lives on college campuses. 

     In Jeremiah, God says, “I know the plans I have for you...to give you a future and a hope.”  It isn’t always easy to see the “door” God has planned for your life.  Looking back, each time I recall feeling the latest challenge to be the hardest one yet.  But, God manages to stretch me further every time, with every new “door.”  I guess I know I am in the right place when my daily prayer seems to be, “God, are you sure about this?”  He knows I can’t bare my heart to strangers without His help.  This new “door” brings me even closer to His heart as He works through me on college campuses.

To learn more about how you can support Pro Life on Campus (an outreach of the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform), visit www.prolifeoncampus.com or drop me a note on my contact page.      

           Unpacking after a move reminds me of Christmas.  With each box, old treasures become new again as my memory revisits the significance of special items that have traveled with me over the years.  Today I found another such treasure in a black and white photograph of a gnarled tree with the caption, “The courage to grow in spite of wounds.”

            I purchased this photograph from a ministry close to my heart, “Committed to Freedom,” which helps people overcome a past of sexual abuse.  This tree started out fine, but was damaged and had to begin again in a new direction.  This is what wounds do to us.  Initially, we are stunted.  Eventually, we branch out again, forever changed by the scars, yet still fruitful and prosperous nonetheless.

            I love to think of God as the Master Potter and me, the clay in His capable hands.  The bits and pieces I give Him to work with are far from perfect.  They are stained with my tears of pain and sin.  There are good bits too, certainly.  God looks at it all the same and says to Himself, “I can use that.”  The good, the bad and the ugly are all equal fodder in His creative hands.  Just like the tree, He finds unique ways for me to begin again and find my way once more into the sunlight.

            It has been two years now since I learned the child I had been carrying for four and half months had died.  I figured I had already earned my “PhD in suffering.”  I was mistaken.  This most recent journey has taken me down many rabbit trails of depression when all hope seemed lost.  My past experience didn’t help me at all in dealing with this new pain...except to offer the reminder of God’s faithfulness.  I know the purpose of MY pain is to help others.  God has given me yet another window into the misery of the human heart.  I can empathize because I do indeed understand.

            I haven’t decided where to put my tree picture.  It needs to go where I will see it on a regular basis.  I want to be reminded on dark days to seek the light above, and to courageously move forward, yet again.   On good days, I will look on it and smile, encouraged to know on this day I am on the bright side of the pain.  I will remember that God does indeed “work all things together for good,” as I am a living testimony to His faithfulness.  (Romans 8:28)

Look for “The Courage Tree” at Committed to Freedom’s bookstore:  http://www.committedtofreedom.org/shop.html    

Does God speak to you in church?  He speaks to me in the sanctuary of my local church quite often.  There are two places I often hear His voice in my heart - in the shower (!!!!) and in church.  I think it is because those are two places where you usually won’t find my toddler, Abby, nearby distracting me.  Also, I also tend to have my spiritual ears open.  The shower is my mini-retreat from the stresses of life as a “single” parent while my husband is away serving our country.  Church is where I recharge my spiritual batteries.  God shows me the most profound things when He speaks to me.  He also often stretches me beyond my known capabilities!

A few Sundays ago, I remembered our current home near Hinesville, Georgia did not have a local pregnancy resource center.  It happened again the next week.  And the next.  “God, are you telling me you want me to start a pregnancy center?”  A strong feeling of excitement mixed with apprehension filled my gut.  “OK, God, is this really You?”  (We’ve had this conversation many times....I think His response is along the lines of “Who else would it be, Nicole?”)  So I prayed, “God, if this is really You, give me confirmation when I seek the counsel of my pastor.”

The next week, I met with my pastor (Chuck Owens of First Baptist Church of Hinesville) and he loved the idea.  He quickly pulled a couple of church elders into the office - and they too grasped the vision.  The ball began to roll...in a few weeks I would meet Jim Elliott, the missionary for the New Sunbury Baptist Association.  At that meeting we all agreed, if this is God’s will, and we all think it is, God will make this a reality.

I have never started a pregnancy center before in my life.  I have witnessed God start a pregnancy center....but I was a bystander, not intimately involved in the process.  (I mention this incredible story in my book.)  As I look back on my collective experiences in pro-life work, it has started to make sense.  I have dabbled in just about every ministry a pregnancy center supports.  I have participated in and led post-abortion healing Bible studies.  I have trained to be a pregnancy counselor.  I have taught abstinence to soldiers (that story is in my book, too!)  I have been a side-walk counselor outside an abortion clinic.  I have talked to the media at a “life-chain” event while holding my “I regret my abortion” sign.  I am a member of the National Right to Life (and have attended one of their conventions.)  I am an encyclopedia of information on abortion from my extensive reading over the past ten years.  And, I’m a pro-life author who has also appeared on TV a few times.  “But, God?”  my heart pleads.  “I have never done this before!”  Therein lies my answer....BUT, GOD!  I have never done this before, BUT GOD has!  (Thank you Valerie Bixler, great woman of God, for teaching me this truth!!)

I reflected on all the people in the Bible who might have had a similar conversation with God.  Moses reminded God that perhaps someone who didn’t stutter would be a better choice for a spokesman to represent Him to the Egyptian Pharoh.  God wasn’t worried....but to ease Moses’ mind, He sent along his brother Aaron to help.  God called Esther, a mere handmaiden of the King, to defy protocol and risk her life to save the Jewish people.  God put Joseph through hell on earth....sold into slavery by his siblings only to be later falsely accused and imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit.  Then Joseph rose to serve as the second only to the King over all of Egypt.  In this God-given role, Joseph was able to save his family from starvation and ultimately provide for the Jews during a terrible famine.  Over and over it is apparent to me that God does not call on those who are equipped and ready for the job He has for them.  Instead He equips those He calls for the job He has for them.

In Hebrews chapter 11, we read about the “great cloud of witnesses” who testify to the faithfulness of God to those who walk in His purpose for their lives.  Today, I feel my own “cloud of witnesses” in the wonderful faces of friends, both new and old, who are rallying around me in support of this idea.  Yes, Hinesville, someday soon you will have a pregnancy center!  In the meantime, I look in eager anticipation to watch the events unfold to create this reality.  For I know God is not only good, but He is able....to do exceedingly more than I can ever imagine.  I can hardly wait.

Want to help?  Shoot me an email on my contact page - and I’ll get you linked in!  God Bless You!   

Today (March 17, 2009) the film crew from CBN came to our home to interview me for an upcoming feature on the 700 Club. Since my grandmother's passing the end of February, I have struggled to maintain even the basics around our home. The house was nowhere ready for a TV crew!

I hired a friend (all my household help become dear friends) and we worked feverishly for two days for over four hours. Besides that, I worked in between, too! This morning while Abby slept and the boys were over at another friend's house (THANKS CHERYL!), I had more time to clean. I noticed the sink, then the counter by the stove, and the water cooler, too was dusty. I scrubbed the trash can lid and the floor near the trash cans. It seemed no matter where I looked, I saw yet another imperfection - more dirt. When I exhausted the cleaning wipes, I determined it was an impossible task. There would always be more dirt. So I resigned myself that this had to be good enough and hoped they wouldn't film the kitchen - and if they did, any neglected dirt wouldn't show.

I read a little scripture before my shower and continued to reflect on the dirt. I also prayed for the upcoming interview - that God would use me for His glory. Then it hit me that God didn't notice my dirt. Not because He couldn't see it - but because He chose to ignore it. The veil of Christ's shed blood for me gave Him "rose colored glasses" that masked my imperfections from His view. God saw my heart. My desire to please Him - to honor Him with my life touched His heart. God's love for me is overwhelming - God loves my heart because He knows it belongs to Him. God doesn't care about my dirt -literally! I am a terrible housekeeper! But, God has gifted me in other ways that I do use for Him. I felt challenged to see myself as God does - and not yield to the tendency to self-condemnation for the dirt in my life I have yet to find victory over.

I reflected on David of the Bible - who was known for having a heart after God's own heart. David had some significant failures, but his heart ultimately belonged to God. It was this endearing quality that God adored. I recalled how God's eyes search the earth looking for those whose hearts are completely His (2 Chronicles 16:9). In another passage God promises to remove our sins from His view - as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12).

God has never desired perfection as much as submission - obedience to His purpose. I must simply work in His purpose for my life. The dirt is irrelevant. But, somehow I have a feeling that eventually God will give me victory in all areas of my life - and help me clean the dirty spots once and for all.