abortion – Searching for Jesus in A̶m̶e̶r̶i̶c̶a̶ Chattanooga

Week 31: When Flawed and Misleading Ideas Take Root (Part 5 of 5)

March 30, 2025April 1, 2025 by Searching For Jesus in America

This week’s post concludes a five-part series on Christian Nationalism, focusing on one Chattanooga church actively embracing the movement. (I will be unpacking all my thoughts in next week’s post.) Through their efforts to “educate, equip, and empower” their congregation, Calvary Chapel Chattanooga is blurring the lines between faith and politics, raising critical questions about the role of churches in civic engagement and the ethical boundaries they may be crossing. This is why I thought it fitting to hear directly from one of their congregants in this final post.

At its core, bad teaching is just that—bad teaching. But the real issue lies in what happens next. When flawed or misleading ideas take root, they can shape perspectives, influence decisions, and drive actions with lasting consequences. The danger isn’t just in the misinformation itself, but in how it’s internalized, spread, and weaponized to justify harmful ideologies or policies.

One particular member of their congregation was brought to the stage where she shared how January 2019 was her “tipping point”, bring her to the forefront of political engagement. She specifically referenced former Governor Cuomo signing the Reproductive Health Act (RHA) in New York, which she said allowed abortion up until the ninth month “basically to kill the baby up until birth.” She followed this up with the assertion that “all the ladies were clapping and laughing” at this news on social media.

For those unfamiliar with the Reproductive Health Act (RHA), which updated New York’s abortion laws, it covered the following:

Codified Roe v. Wade into state law, ensuring the right to abortion in New York even if federal protections were overturned.
Expanded access to abortion after 24 weeks if the fetus was nonviable or if the pregnancy endangered the woman’s life or health.
Decriminalized abortion by removing it from the state’s criminal code and treating it as a medical issue.

The claim that the law allowed the killing of babies is a misrepresentation. The law did not permit infanticide or the killing of newborns. It focused on allowing later-term abortions in rare cases where the fetus could not survive outside the womb or when the mother’s life or health was at serious risk.

For context, I think it’s important to provide an accurate perspective on how common abortions are after 24 weeks. The availability of abortion services after 24 weeks gestation in the United States is limited and varies by state due to differing laws and regulations. According to a 2023 study by Advancing New Standards in Reproductive Health (ANSIRH), approximately 60 clinics across the country provided abortions at or after 24 weeks gestation. Of these, only five clinics offered services at or after 28 weeks.

What a lot of people don’t realize is that obtaining an abortion after 28 weeks gestation in the United States is rare and subject to stringent protocols that vary by state and individual clinic policies. Generally, these late-term procedures are considered only under exceptional circumstances, such as:

Serious risks to the pregnant individual’s health or life: Situations where continuing the pregnancy poses a substantial threat to the physical health or survival of the pregnant person.
Severe fetal anomalies: Conditions where the fetus is diagnosed with life-threatening or significantly debilitating abnormalities.

Additionally, The specific approval process for an abortion after 28 weeks typically involves:

Informed consent: Providing the patient with detailed information about the procedure, potential risks, and available alternatives to ensure an informed decision.
Comprehensive medical evaluation: A thorough assessment by healthcare professionals to document the medical necessity of the procedure.
Consultation with specialists: Engagement with experts in maternal-fetal medicine, neonatology, or other relevant fields to corroborate the diagnosis and prognosis.
Ethics committee review: Some institutions may require the case to be presented to an ethics committee to ensure that the decision aligns with ethical and legal standards.

I could go into more detail on this—and maybe I will in another post—but for now, I want to share one important perspective. Having known women who have faced the heartbreaking reality of losing a pregnancy in their second or third trimester, I’ve witnessed firsthand the depth of their pain and the difficult choices they’ve had to make. These were parents who desperately wanted their children. Their nurseries were ready, tiny clothes folded neatly in drawers, names already chosen. And yet, in one instance, the life they dreamed of turned into a nightmare. Their insurance barely covered any of the associated costs—let alone the burden of traveling out of state because only a handful of clinics in the U.S. could provide the care they needed.

This never seems to be a perspective Christian Nationalists consider when they frame abortion as a matter of convenience or selfishness. They don’t seem to see the mothers and fathers who prayed for their child, who felt every kick with joy, who decorated nurseries with love—only to be told that their baby would not survive outside the womb, or that continuing the pregnancy could cost the mother her life.

They don’t acknowledge the impossible choices these families face, the grief of saying goodbye before they even got to say hello, or the devastation of navigating a medical system that often adds financial and logistical burdens to an already unbearable situation. Instead, they paint with broad strokes, reducing complex, deeply personal medical decisions to political talking points—ignoring the very real suffering of the people caught in the middle.

When complex, deeply personal issues involving suffering are reduced to political talking points, we are called to approach the situation with humility and a willingness to listen. Jesus consistently responded to suffering with empathy and care, reminding us to carry each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2) and to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger (James 1:19). While we should stand firm in biblical convictions, we must also model Christ’s grace, recognizing that every person’s story is unique and cannot be reduced to broad generalizations. Rather than contributing to division, we are called to be peacemakers (Matthew 5:9), fostering thoughtful dialogue and engaging in meaningful action to address suffering (James 2:15-17). Ultimately, our faith should compel us to uplift those in pain, ensuring our words and actions reflect Christ’s heart—full of both truth and compassion.

The second issue I find concerning is Calvary’s strong attachment to political figures, both among its leadership and congregants. What I found most disconcerting was this congregants adoration, even idolization, of Charlie Kirk. (And there were more than a few hollers of support when she asked “Who else follows Charlie Kirk?”) She encouraged people to attend his Turning Point Conferences and shared her own experience and how her life “radically, radically changed” after attending a conference herself.

Her words, not mine.

She explained how she met a young, female student at the conference who shared her experience of being ostracized at her school because of her association with Turning Point. She mentioned how the “leftists” would walk by tables and pour out drinks and spray bear spray. The congregant talked about how this interaction made her realize she couldn’t be quiet anymore, which also garnered her a round of applause.

She also mentioned meeting Rudy Giuliani, shaking his hand, and getting a picture of him, which she followed up with, “You never know what God has in store for you, if you just do what He asks you to do.” This is problematic for a few reasons. Giuliani is, at the very least, a polarizing figure, particularly due to his legal controversies and involvement in promoting false claims about the 2020 election. (The leader of the Civics + Culture Ministry openly shared his belief that Biden did not win the 2020 Presidential election.) The comment could be seen as endorsing or aligning with a controversial individual, which may alienate those who view him negatively. But, more importantly, the use of religious language to justify meeting or engaging with someone like Giuliani might suggest divine approval of actions that many find ethically or morally questionable. This can come across as an attempt to use religion as a means to support a specific political stance, potentially alienating others who do not share the same views.

I bring all this up because it underscores a troubling (and growing) movement in our country… in our churches: the merging of faith and political ideology in a way that elevates partisan loyalty over theological integrity.

This movement doesn’t just encourage political engagement; it promotes an interpretation of Christianity that is inseparable from a specific political identity. It creates an environment where following figures like Charlie Kirk or Rudy Giuliani becomes synonymous with being a “faithful Christian,” and where questioning this alignment is seen as a threat—not just to political beliefs, but to one’s standing within the faith community itself.

The implications of this are significant. When churches become platforms for political figures and organizations, they risk turning worship spaces into ideological echo chambers rather than places of spiritual formation. Faith becomes a tool for political mobilization rather than a transformative relationship with God that transcends party lines.

Even more concerning is how this fusion of politics and faith often fosters an “us vs. them” mentality, where those who hold different political beliefs are not just ideological opponents, but moral, or even spiritual, enemies. The congregant’s story about the student at the Turning Point conference illustrates this well—there was no questioning of the broader narrative, no curiosity about why some students might react negatively to Turning Point’s presence. Instead, the persecution complex was reinforced, strengthening the belief that being a “true Christian” means standing against a monolithic and hostile “leftist” enemy.

This trend is growing, and it’s deeply shaping the way many American Christians understand their faith. It’s one thing to bring faith into the public sphere, to engage in politics with a Christ-centered conscience. It’s another thing entirely to reshape Christianity to fit the mold of a political movement—one that thrives on division, fear, and an ever-tightening definition of who belongs.

They closed out this session talking about Intercessors for America (IFA), a Christian organization focused on intercessory prayer for the United States. Their mission is to mobilize Christians to pray for the country’s leaders, government, and key issues affecting the nation. The organization believes that prayer is a powerful tool to influence positive change in America and that Christians have a responsibility to intercede on behalf of their nation.

However, this organization is not without controversy.

IFA’s focus on national repentance, spiritual warfare, and the promotion of Christian nationalism has led to concerns about marginalizing non-Christian groups and promoting exclusionary views. The group’s association with far-right evangelical movements and its emphasis on America’s Christian identity has further sparked debates about the role of religion in politics.

In her closing remarks, the leader of the workshop said, “But, at the end of the day, ya know, my allegiance is to the Lord… at the end of the day, I have to put my head down on the pillow and know that I served Him, that I reflected Him.”

The problematic aspect of this statement lies in its use of religious language to reinforce a political stance while implying divine endorsement of a particular ideology. Given the broader context of the workshop—where figures like Charlie Kirk and Rudy Giuliani were praised, where political activism was framed as a Christian duty, and where skepticism toward the legitimacy of the 2020 election was openly expressed—this statement serves as a rhetorical shield.

By saying, “My allegiance is to the Lord,” the leader positions herself as spiritually above reproach, suggesting that her political actions and affiliations are inherently righteous. This discourages critical engagement or dissent because questioning her stance could be perceived as questioning God’s will.

Additionally, the phrase “I have to put my head down on the pillow and know that I served Him” implies that her activism—aligned with a specific political movement—is a direct act of faithfulness to God. This subtly reinforces the idea that opposing viewpoints are not just politically different but spiritually deficient. It further blurs the line between faith and partisanship, making it difficult for those who hold different political perspectives to feel fully included in the faith community.

Ultimately, the statement is problematic because it frames political allegiance as a measure of faithfulness, contributing to the growing trend of Christian Nationalism, where political identity and religious identity become inseparable.

(PLEASE NOTE: Next week’s post will be, in a way, my response to the last five posts and to the leader’s assertion that “We’re hated because of our conservative Christian values.”)

My Story (Part 3)

January 20, 2020January 20, 2020 by Searching For Jesus in America

After leaving the Good Friday service, it took about 12 hours for me to accept the Lord’s answer to my fleece. But, there was one glaring problem: If He was calling me to share my story with others, I’d probably need to share it with my husband first.

About 30 years ago, I made a conscious decision to give myself a fresh start in life. A reset, of sorts. And I didn’t meet my husband until almost 10 years AFTER that reset… far removed from the shackles of a past I was determined to leave behind. But, now I sat on my bed trying to figure out how in the world I was going to share this story with my husband. What was I going to say? How would he react? We hardly ever fought. I mean, after 17 years of marriage I can probably count on one hand the times we’ve fought. I didn’t even know how to prepare myself for any type of confrontation.

The only thing I knew to do was pray and then to ask someone else to pray, which is exactly what I did. I called my friend, Anna, confessing my need to tell her something… but, needing to tell my husband first. I asked her to go somewhere alone to pray for me, to pray for my husband. I asked for her to pray until I texted her that my conversation with my husband was over. She told me she would and I knew she’d hold true to her word. Anna, despite not knowing the circumstances, understood both the sincerity and severity of my request.

I remember telling my husband that I needed to talk to him; it was urgent and cleaning would have to wait. I remember telling the kids they could watch a movie and that cleaning would have to wait. I remember the kids being thrilled with the indefinite postponement of chores. I remember feeling like I was going to throw up. I remember crawling into bed and wrapping myself in the blankets. I remember telling my husband the entire story.

I grew up in an abusive home, something my husband knew. My dad was a controlling, sadistic alcoholic who physically beat me and my mom, usually when he was drunk. But sometimes, especially when he was angry, alcohol wasn’t required. In middle school, social services got involved. Briefly. But, also the consummate sweet-talker, my dad convinced the social worker that my cry for help was nothing more than a kid looking to be “spared from the rod.” A funny comment from a man who refused to go to church because he didn’t want to associate with hypocrites. But, the irony was lost on the social worker because she didn’t bother asking if my dad even went to church… or asking for my side of the story, or asking to see the bruises on my body.

One night, while calling home to see if I could stay a little longer at a friend’s house, I could hear things breaking in the background. I could hear my dad in a fit of rage. The last thing I wanted to do was go home, but the last thing I could do was leave my mom there to fend for herself. By the time I got there, the house was destroyed. Picture frames torn from the walls, glass broken everywhere. My dad was still reeling and my mom was still making excuses for him. It was the same song and dance we’d been doing for years. But, I was tired of this dance. I was tired of living in fear. Honestly, I was tired of living. Period.

So, I left.

At seventeen, I left home. For a couple of weeks, there were friends whose parents took me in because they were sympathetic to the situation. But, I never wanted to overstay my welcome. I spent weeks sleeping wherever a bed, or couch, was offered. I stayed in my car. I asked my friends for whatever food they could spare during lunch. If there was enough, I’d save some for dinner. As the weeks turned into months, my friend circle began to change; all my “church” friends stopped talking to me. I started hanging out with an older crowd, which led me down a destructive path.

At the age of 17, I found myself pregnant and homeless. And in a horrific twist of fate, my parents offered me a chance to come home, under the best possible circumstances. My dad was being transferred to an office in Texas for the remainder of the school year. My parents told me I could return home, without having to deal with the presence of my dad…. but, only if I wasn’t pregnant.

Being pregnant wasn’t an option. I mean, what would the people at church think, right? This was a genuine response. (And after hearing the stories of so many others, it’s a common theme from within the church.)

I remember sitting in my car outside of the abortion clinic, watching women walk in. Watching them walk out. Curious if their countenance would change. I noticed a woman sitting in a beach chair outside the clinic, a Cool-Mate cooler to the right of the chair. She was reading a book, but every time a woman passed on the walkway to the clinic, she would look up and say something. Sometimes the interaction was longer than others. Eventually, I got up the nerve to go in. I convinced myself this was a necessary decision for survival. I needed to graduate high school and get out from under the control of my parents. But, I had to pass by this woman and her cooler first.

To this day, I remember so much about my conversation with her. She got up from her chair and said that she had been watching me for as long as I had been watching her. She then asked something I would have NEVER expected.

She asked if she could pray for me.

When I said yes, she grabbed my hands and moved in close. Too close. Her forehead pressed against mine. I braced myself for what was about to come. I was raised in a church where Sunday morning announcements included the phone numbers of elected state and federal officials you needed to call to make sure your voice was heard. I was prepared for the back-handed prayer of condemnation to hell because I was about to commit the unforgivable sin. I was ready.

But, it never came.

Instead, this woman prayed a prayer that would one day save my life. She prayed that I would experience the Father’s love in a real way. No matter what I decided, she wanted me to know that God would love me as much walking out of that clinic as He did when I walked in. No matter what I decided.

That was it. She didn’t try to change my mind. She didn’t throw scriptures at me or call me a murderer. She didn’t show me horrible pictures. She just showed me compassion. She showed me love.

She showed me Jesus.

Years later, I would find myself spiraling down a path of crippling depression, wanting to end my life. (And before anyone starts “explaining” my situation as some form of PTSD. It wasn’t. I spent a lot of time in counseling as a part of my healing process… healing from ALL the trauma of my childhood. Let me save you from your arrogance and/or ignorance. This moment, unfortunately, stemmed from other circumstances far beyond my control and had absolutely nothing to do with this situation.) In my darkest moment, I remembered the woman sitting outside the clinic. I remembered her talking about a God I never knew, despite being raised in the Church. A God that loved you… no matter what. In that moment, I called out to that God. I told Him that if He really existed, I needed Him to take this consuming darkness away. He had to end it, because if He didn’t, I was going to.

And as soon as those words escaped my mouth… it was all gone. The darkness and despair, the depression. All of it. Inexplicably gone.

I wish I could sit here and say that in that moment I dedicated my life to the Lord who saved me from myself. But, truth is… in that moment, I thought about ALL the times I was taught about God’s love for children. I thought about the horrors of my childhood and wondered where God was all those years. Instead of being overwhelmed by His love for me, I became overcome by my anger towards Him.

So… I ran from God. Hard and fast for almost 10 years. Around the world, literally… and then to Maine.

I sat on my bed, finally through the whole story. Tears rolling down my face because I just shared years worth of trauma to a man who never signed up for it. I had no idea how he would take it. My husband is an internal processor, a pretty extensive dialogue takes place in his head before any words cross his lips. I, on the other hand, am an external processor. I need words to be expressed vocally, especially in these situations.

But all I got from him was this quizzical look, as if every word coming from my mouth had been in some indistinguishable language. The expression remained on his face for an uncomfortable amount of time and I used every second of the silence to brace myself for every possible response… except the one he gave me.

“Deirdre, I’ve known… I’ve known for years.”

I’m sorry, WHAT?!?! How in the world could he know? And, more importantly, how was it even possible for me to have absolutely no clue?

My husband then went on to explain how years ago, while packing up for our move, he came across a box filled with letters and pictures. He didn’t recognize the contents and began searching for a clue. From the few things he read, my husband was able to piece together my story. But, instead of bringing the contents of the box to my attention, he quietly placed them back onto the shelf.

Immediately, I placed myself in his shoes. I can, quite confidently, admit that if the roles had been reversed, my actions would not have been the same. NOT. EVEN. CLOSE. I would have brought the whole thing to his immediate attention asking how he could have possibly kept something so monumental from me. I, most likely, would have felt entitled to know every detail and demanded as much. At the end of the day, I would have expected a complete confession and then (possibly) extended grace…. maybe. I wish I could say that my response would have been different, but I know myself pretty well.

Thankfully, that was NOT how my husband responded. And when I asked why he never said anything to me, his answer was simple… but profound.

“That was from a time in your life before you knew me. That’s not who you are now.”

And, just like that, for the first time in my entire life, I understood how Jesus REALLY sees me. I came to a place of TRULY understanding what he accomplished on the cross.

For years, men in the church… leaders in the church… shamed my husband because of his “lack of leadership” on the home front. They blamed me for not being submissive. They questioned his lack of interest in leadership opportunities at the church, opting instead to watch the babies of the young women I would teach. They never once saw how much of Jesus my husband REALLY was. (Confession: Neither did I… because I believed the lies so many propagated in the Church, whether through their words or actions.) My husband was the first to serve in the most “undesirable” positions. He saw my giftings and did everything possible to make sure I used them for the edification of the body… even if that meant being covered in the spit up of a child that wasn’t ours.

In that moment, through those simple words, my husband showed me an inexplicable love. He showed me the love of Jesus. And in that moment, EVERYTHING changed.