Abortion and the Argument of Pain

So I preached a sermon about abortion last Sunday (which you can listen to here).  It's far from perfect, and I feel I left out some important things (such as the effects of abortion on fathers), but the aim was not to attack women; rather, the aim was to attack the arguments used by pro-abortionists, which usually center around the woman and her rights.  Here, and in a few forthcoming entries, I want to state why I do not think any of the most common pro-abortion arguments are valid.  

Let's start with this one, one I recently saw in the comments section of a very edgy Matt Walsh blog article which goes roughly like this: I hear what you pro-lifers are saying, but before a certain point in its development, the fetus cannot even feel pain.  So abortion doesn't even hurt the so-called "baby."  This argument is ridiculous because, as ethicist Scott Rae points out, it confuses the experience of harm with the reality of harm.  If I were paralyzed from the waist down, and you cut off my legs, I would not feel pain, but could we say that there was therefore no harm done?  If I am anesthetized for surgery, and the doctor slips and pokes a hole in my heart, I didn't feel it - did he hurt me or not?  Harm is done when YOU hurt someone; it doesn't matter if they feel it or not.  Hurting someone does not depend on them feeling the pain of the harm done. 

This argument does not answer the question, "Is abortion wrong?"  It answers only the question, "How much pain will the baby feel when she is killed?"  

To which I ask, "Does it matter?"  We need to shift the focus of the discussion away from questions of convenience to questions of essence.  Convenience questions are questions such as is this child wanted?, is the woman/girl ready to be a mother?, will the fetus feel pain?, is the fetus viable?, etc.  Essence questions are is the embryo/fetus a human person or not?, what is the difference between a baby who has completely exited the birth canal and one that has only exited up to its head?, why is the killing of a healthy, 8-month-old fetus justified on the basis of concerns for the mother's health (which is defined arbitrarily by her physician)?

It's all about what the embryo/fetus is.  If it is not a person, then no justification for abortion is necessary.  If it is a person, then no justification is adequate.

It Ain't Always Chariots of Fire

Last Sunday did not end as I had planned. The marathon was supposed to end with me crossing the finish line in about 4 hours, 50 minutes, triumphant and feeling pretty good for just running a marathon. I mean, it couldn't be any worse than last time, right?

Let's start before the start. Keep in mind, I've been training in Iowa, where my warmest run was about 55 degrees and windy. At the start it was about 60 and raining, and when the rain stopped it remained quite humid. Mentally, I was ready. Physically, I thought I was ready. It didn't take long to learn otherwise.

About 5 miles in, I could tell my legs were more tired than they should be, but I pressed on, thinking they were just settling into a groove. I actually kept my 5 hour pace for the first half of the race, but my quadriceps on both legs began to cramp at mile 11. Two years ago, they waited until mile 15. I adjusted my running to include more frequent and longer walk breaks, determined to, at the least, beat my time from 2009. Sometimes the cramp would seize up and even stretching wouldn't undo it.

About mile 17, I really started feeling bad. I knew I was dehydrated, even though I drank Gatorade (and sometimes water, too) at every fluid station and I wore a Camelbak with 60 oz of water in it to drink between stations. I had a mild headache, I was very thirsty, but I felt full and didn't want to keep eating my gel blocks, even though I knew I needed them. Every time I stopped to walk, my quads would tighten up for a while and if I stopped to stretch my legs or lower back, I felt like I needed to sit down. But I refused to give up and I kept going.

At some point, I couldn't run more than 30 seconds before the cramps would come back, then I would walk for about 90 seconds and try again. This took me through miles 18-26. The final .1 I ran continuously on adrenaline alone, wanting to throw up, cry, and lay down as soon as I finished. But I stayed upright until I made it through the recovery area, chip removal, and food tables. Then I sat down on a concrete bench to wait for Heidi to meet me.

I knew immediately I was in trouble. My hearing started to disappear, my vision began to tunnelize, and I felt my head getting light. Heidi was still approaching as I told the people next to me, "I think I'm gonna pass out." Then it went black and I felt asleep, but woke up about thirty seconds later to a medical crew laying me down on the bench and getting my hyperventilating under control. Heidi said when I passed out, my arms went stiff and straight, my eyes rolled, and I groaned. That's why they think I may have had a very minor seizure. They loaded me onto a golf cart-type thingy and rushed me to the medical tent, where I almost passed out again and my blood pressure was 80/55. After laying on a cot and getting an IV and a bunch of tests, they advised me to go to the hospital, where we spent the next 4.5 hours getting fluids and rest.

What I learned:

- Listen to your body. Mine said stop. I didn't. My body had the last word.

- I am not made for marathons. Half marathons, yes. Full, no.

- It's a good idea to tell someone if you're gonna pass out.

- Hill training is essential. The hills here chewed up my legs, and we just don't have hills like that in Waterloo.

- Always take your ID and insurance card with you when running. I'm glad I did.

Okay, time to sleep.

In the medical tent getting ready to go to the hospital. I got the medal, though.

Not Yet, But Someday

I can’t wait to see my child take his first steps.

This afternoon, while watching Michael struggle to stand on his own, I could tell that he wanted to take a step, but he couldn't. As an adult, I know that there's a process of learning how to walk, but with patience and persistence, he would indeed master it one day. He pulled himself up on the sleeve of my shirt like he’s done a hundred times, but this time I wrapped my arm around him and said, "Michael, I know that one day you will walk. I know it seems impossible now, but you will walk. You'll walk, you'll run, you'll dance. You will walk; I promise. Trust me; trust Daddy. I have been where you are and I know the way."

I think God speaks to us like that when we think about death and pain and suffering and how hard this life really is. We know we are made for more than this life. We know that these bodies should be better than they are. Something has gone terribly wrong with us; we were made to run and dance and all we can do is crawl along on the ground in frustration, so to speak. I think Michael senses that he is not supposed to crawl forever; he knows now that he was made to walk, run, dance, jump, play.

Jesus speaks to us from heaven: "I know right now you are stumbling, crawling yet knowing that you were made to walk. Your knees are scarred and scraped. You're tired of falling down and not knowing how to be what I created you to be. But I promise: you will walk, you will run, you will jump, you will dance, you will play. You WERE made for more than this. There IS something wrong with the world, but behold, I was dead and now I am alive forever and ever. And I hold the keys to death and Hades. One day, you will join me, and together we will walk in the kingdom I have prepared for you from the foundation of the world. You will walk. Trust me; I have been where you are and I know the way. Hold on! I am coming soon, and my reward is with me!"

He can’t wait to see his children take their first steps.

Countdown to 26.2: 18 weeks

I realized yesterday that I begin my marathon training regiment in less than two weeks. I am not exactly ready for this, let alone the thought of running 26.2 miles in one day. But for the sake of seeing some actual progress, here are some baseline statistics which will be used for comparison throughout my training.

• Starting weight: 240 (yep . . . ouch)

• Miles run in December: 24.4

• Notable decisions made this month: I realize that food is always going to be my toughest area to control. I love to eat, and, unfortunately, my standards are low, so I'll eat all kinds of stuff I shouldn't be eating. Two days ago, however, I started (once again, see my posts from Jan. 2008) cleaning it up somewhat, not as strictly as before, but focusing on not eating so much at a time, and not eating when I'm bored.

Last year, the half marathon was more of a logical next step in my evolution as a runner. This year, however, I feel that the full marathon is more of a life-changing event, some kind of metaphor for finding oneself in life and conquering fears. Taking a marathon seriously will change your life: you eat differently, you run differently, you face physical and mental challenges you've never had before, you have to invest many, many hours in training, and you must believe in yourself or you will not get past week six or so in the sixteen-week training program.

The timing in all this intensifies the greatness of the moment: my final semester in grad school (which brings its own worries and challenges), my ten-year anniversary, turning 32 next week (and realizing just how mortal I am), and noting that my dad had his heart attack at age 35, and he weighed only about 20 pounds more than I do right now when it happened. Not only do I want to run this marathon; I need to run this marathon.

So I will check in with this countdown every four weeks, or as often as it takes to succinctly yet fully convey this experience to you. For now, however, it's time to sleep.

On Becoming a Father, Part One

Assuming our little guy waits until the week of his due date, we have three and a half weeks left until we become parents. This is one of life's milestones that sticks with you and cannot be undone (even if your child dies, you are still a parent to that child, or at least you would say you have been a parent. But let's not be too picky). And it cultivates the kind of love inside you that you did not think you have: complete love for a total stranger. We've never actually met face-to-face, yet I would give my life for him. This love comes bursting out in certain moments, like when I imagine his sleeping on my chest, so small, so innocent, so fragile, so beautiful, so trusting, so lovable - I often cry for joy and love at such thoughts. There are such intense emotions connected to becoming and being parents. One minute I cannot wait to meet him and hold him and hear his coos and touch his face, and the next minute I am terrified that he is completely our responsibility for the next 18 years or so. But I'm sure it will all be just fine.

Ever Wonder "There's Gotta Be More To Life Than This"?

So I was at the gym today, and the song "I Don't Wanna Be" by Gavin Degraw (the video, actually) started on the gym's many TVs. I like the song, the few years old that it is, but today the words occurred to me in a new way:

I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms
Wondering what I've got to do or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me


The reason I noticed the words is because I paused the song on my Shuffle to watch the video. I was listening to Stacy Orrico's "There's Gotta Be More To Life":


I've got it all but I feel so deprived
I go up, I come down, and I'm emptier inside
Tell me: what is this thing that I feel like I'm missing?
And why can't I let it go?


There's gotta be more to life
than chasin' down every temporary high to satisfy me
'Cause the more that I trip around thinking there must be more to life
Well there's life, but I'm sure there's gotta be more (I'm wanting more)


I've got the time and I'm wasting it slowly
Here in this moment I'm half way out the door
Onto the next thing, I'm searching
For something that's missing
There's gotta be more . . . .


Now, you may not know that Staci Orrico is a Christian, so this song is really her way of inviting people out there who are "tired of looking round rooms wondering what I've got to do or who I'm supposed to be" to search for true meaning in life other than "what I've been trying to be lately."


And since we're using music here to explain some tough issues (funny how music has a power to do that sort of thing better than straight out statements), allow me to explain what I believe is true life and meaning available for each person. This comes from the Newsboys' remake of a classic hymn "In Christ Alone":


No guilt in life, no fear in death -
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry, to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from his hand
'Till he returns or calls me home -
Here in the power of Christ I stand


And why I continue to be a Christian, as expressed in Hillsong's "Made Me Glad":


You have made me glad, and I'll say of the Lord:
You are my shield, my strength, my portion, deliverer,
My shelter, strong tower,
My very present help in time of need


I don't want to be "what I've been trying to be lately" because I screw it up too often. I do want to be what God wants to make of me: gentle, self-controlled, peaceable, strong, gracious, understanding, loving, encouraging, brave, full of hope, not afraid of death, not afraid of life, one who lifts others up, a fantastic husband, brother, son, friend, father (some day!), and slowly becoming all around better than I was at this time last year.


He can make this of you, too. That's the "good news" about Jesus. We don't have to try to get into Heaven on our own efforts; Jesus has done the effort and has paid the penalty we deserve. Paul, one of the writers of the New Testament, says it this way:


"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he [or she] is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himselft through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation, that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. . . . We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."

Running and Life

What running has taught me about life (in no particular order):

1. You don't run a personal best every time; sometimes you feel like crap and have to take three walk breaks in five miles.
2. What you eat definitely affects how you run. Indian food the night before a 5-miler is not a good idea.
3. You'd be amazed how much farther you can go on when someone looks at you menacingly and taunts you from across the street.
4. A lot of good music helps me cope with the difficult days.
5. No matter how good you think you are, some little 10-year-old (or 80-year-old) will always beat you at your next race.
6. It's so much easier to run a long race when people are cheering for you along the way.
7. It's easier to stick with training if you've already paid registration fees for a future race.
8. Some races are about speed; some races are about endurance. Knowing which is which is priceless.
9. Sometimes, the best time to run is in the rain.
10. If one part of your body (namely, the foot) is off, the whole body pays for it the next day.

That's all I've got for now; feel free to add your lessons in your comments.