When we think of the incarnation, our minds often leap from Mary receiving the angel’s news to baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. But it’s crucial to slow down and reflect on what happened in between.
The Son of God descended from heaven and put on every aspect of our bodily vulnerability.
Still fully divine, his unique genetic code was formed as he was “knit together in his mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13). From zygote to embryo to fetus, he followed every stage of human development that he had put into place (Colossians 1:15–17). Like us, his lungs and fingers and toes developed gradually. He relied on Mary’s womb for protection and life-sustaining nourishment until the day of his birth.
Even before he was born, Jesus’s identity as the God-Man was celebrated: when Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth, Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and her unborn son—John the Baptist—leapt in her womb with joy at the presence of the Messiah (Luke 1:39–45).
Long before his death and resurrection, our Savior began his human life in the humble caverns of a womb.
The account of Jesus’s conception is Scripture’s clearest and most compelling testimony that human life begins at conception. Biology only confirms this. At the exact moment of conception, a new human’s unique genetic code is written. Each new life is a person with immeasurable value.
In light of this, Christians must continue in the unpopular mission of speaking up for unborn children and speaking against abortion.
Abortion is not health care. It is violence. In some cases, it involves systematic and discriminatory targeting—with girls being targeted in some countries (as is well documented in China and India), and children with Down syndrome being disproportionately targeted in Western countries like ours. In every case, it is brutality.
Abortion proponents can try to repackage and defend it any way they want. But whether abortion is accomplished chemically (which can seem “tame” and “medical”) or surgically (where the physical destruction is overt), abortion is an indefensible evil. It kills innocent life. Innocent girls. Innocent boys. Innocent babies of every ethnicity. Innocent babies with disabilities.
In writing this, I’m well aware that readers will ask, “But what about (fill-in-the-blank about another social injustice).” So just to be clear, I believe it’s crucial for Christians to cultivate compassion for other vulnerable groups too. For starters, Scripture is explicit that our concern must stretch to the poor, the oppressed, the orphan, the widow, and the sojourner. It’s essential to faithful living and faithful witness.
It’s also worth noting that God calls us to different good works (Ephesians 2:10). We are limited beings, and our focus on some needs doesn’t mean we don’t care about others. I spend much of my time serving refugees, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about children in foster care. I have friends involved in foster care, that doesn’t mean they don’t care about refugees.
In the same way, if someone is particularly vocal on behalf of the unborn, it’s judgmental to assume they don’t care about other people or injustices as well.
Our individual callings also remind us of our need for one another. Christians were never meant to minister to the world as isolated individuals, but as a corporate Body. Our varied works strengthen our witness as a whole.
Throughout history, there has always been a faithful remnant of the Church that has shown steadfast and sacrificial care to the vulnerable and oppressed. From rescuing babies from infanticide in ancient Rome, to establishing schools and hospitals and social programs during the Middle Ages, to helping slaves escape through the Underground Railroad and hiding Jews from the Nazis during the Holocaust, this remnant has faithfully defended human dignity and worked for human flourishing. I’m so grateful for the countless Christians and Christian organizations that minister to an array of needs today.
It’s a popular pot-shot to say Christians only care about life in the womb. While this critique is certainly valid for some, it is unfounded for many others. It can also function as a smokescreen, intended to avert our eyes from the ongoing evil of abortion.
And a concern I have for people like me—those who have a strong burden to care for other types of human suffering—is that, in our desire not to be one-issue Christians, we end up minimizing or ignoring this particularly pervasive, legal, and often celebrated evil. Frustrated by those who compromise other biblical teachings, we quietly make compromises of our own. And in our (selfish) desire to not be lumped in with “those kinds of Christians,” we’re tempted to neglect being a voice for the voiceless.
And that’s no small thing. Since Roe v. Wade in 1973, it’s estimated that nearly 65 million babies have been killed by abortion. Their cries have been silent—ours should not be.
May we faithfully defend these precious lives and speak with clarity against this accepted evil. May we wrap our arms around every mother considering abortion, so that she knows she is not alone. May we support a culture of life in our communities, confronting the lies and easing the pressures that make abortion seem reasonable. And may we consistently pray for abortion to become unthinkable, because it is seen for the violence it is.
An important note for mothers who carry the weight of painful regret after an abortion: there is no sin that Jesus will not JOYFULLY, completely, and graciously forgive. You do not need to hide from him in shame. His mercy is enough for you. And when you feel stricken with grief, you’ll find him a gentle comforter, too.
Amy DiMarcangelo
Amy DiMarcangelo is the author of Wisdom for Fighting Sin, Go and Do Likewise, and A Hunger for More.She holds an M.A. in Theological Studies from Westminster Theological Seminary and lives in New Jersey with her husband and three children.