A Plea for Life

'Loving God and loving neighbor are not separate choices. One flows sweetly from the other. Loving my neighbor will always mean a desire to help him or her find the grace of God in all its manifestations. Loving my neighbor will occasionally arrest me, and maybe even require me to help prevent someone from being murdered. Loving God and loving neighbor are never at odds with each other. Those who try to do one at the expense of the other offend both God and neighbor.'

- John Ensor, Innocent Blood - Challenging the Powers of Death with the Gospel of Life, p. 14

'The most fundamental expression of love is care, concern, and protection of human life. The foundational obligation of all government is to protect, sustain, and maintain human life. This is the very reason for government.'

- R.C. Sproul, Abortion, A Rational Look at an Emotional Issue, pp. 87-88

One of the greatest indicators of the church’s commitment to the pro-life cause is whether she will commit herself to becoming dissatisfied with the status quo. Let’s face it; the abortion debate has been around a long time. The destruction of human life far precedes the recent Veritas videos, and yet heretofore the cost to the church has been minimal.  It is one thing, albeit important, to vote for pro-life candidates, and quite another to materially help a young woman with an unwanted pregnancy as she struggles to get on her feet. The pro-life battle comes much closer to home when we invite the stranger into our own living room. To adopt or foster a child is to invest in something far greater than creature comforts, and at the time it's much more difficult to see a return on our investment. It’s a matter of historical record that the early Christians were pro-life, believing that God was the giver of every life. When Roman citizens looked for ways to dispose of unwanted children it was the Christian communities that took them in and raised them as their own. The early church saw the risk and took it. They knew the way of the cross was costly, particularly for their Lord, but they also knew the servant is no greater than the Master.  

 

As long as the church loves her ease and eschews her discomfort it’s likely the pro-life battle will be consigned to a passive yawn. We’ll soon forget the videos and settle back into the routine. You see…to care is to commit time and resources. To care is to cast comfort to the wind. To care is to make hard choices. And frankly, there is a certain risk to it all, and risk is…well, it’s risky. There is a war in our midst, with real bloodshed for the innocent, and as long as the church is satisfied with where she’s at there will be little light and little salt. We shouldn’t wonder why the world then looks at us with eyes aglaze and yawns.

 

- DJM

12/2025

Longing in Hope

There’s a tension that won’t go away. I feel it, viscerally. Try as I might to mitigate its effects the strain is palpable; longing and yearning. What is flies in the face of what should be. No aspect of life has escaped.  We yearn with incessant longing, but as a result of the Fall all of life is often hard and filled with unmet expectations.  Our longing manifests itself in frustration and alienation. Can we escape it? Is it possible to get beyond this tension?

 

What if the tension, and what if the yearning are indications, signposts pointing to something far more significant? What if the incessant longing for something better and different is an indicator of something broken and seemingly unfixable? What if estrangement and its satisfaction here and now are impossible?   In 2002 the rock group Coldplay asked an even more penetrating question,

 

Am I, a part of the cure 
Or am I part of the disease?

 

What if the problem with longing is me? What if the cure I long for is held in abeyance by the contagion I carry? What if the biggest obstacle to satisfying my yearning is rooted deeply inside of who I am?

 

One of my favorite Christmas stories is the story of Simeon found in Luke chapter 2. Simeon, a righteous, clear-eyed, and wizened temple worshiper was a man consumed with longing. He looked at the world around him and saw brokenness. He knew something of the prevalent and encroaching darkness and yet pined for something or Someone better. When the young child Jesus was brought to the temple for the rite of purification, Simeon’s gaze fell upon Him. In that moment Simeon’s yearning, like a man overlong parched for lack of water, found his thirsting sated. For Simeon the answer to the longing was found in deliverance, but even more so, in a Deliverer. Simeon describes his yearning being satisfied by seeing. He exclaims,

 

‘…my eyes have seen your salvation….’(v. 30)

 

In Jesus, Simeon saw deliverance, not just for the world, but for himself. Long bound by chains of his own making, in Jesus Simeon was confronted by his longing, and confronted by his own need and the needs of the world around him. In Simeon’s beatific Advent vision every longing pooled up with satisfaction. Salvation, was found in Jesus in the Incarnation, and in Him the telos (end) of longing, had come. 

 

Simeon wasn’t the only one who longed for something. In generations prior the patriarch Abraham had been whispered a promise. And Jesus, of Himself, spoke as the anecdote to Abraham’s long dormant yearning in John 8, 

 

‘Your father Abraham rejoiced that he would see my day. He saw it and was glad.’ (V. 56)

 

Abraham’s longing was rooted deeply in the covenantal framework given to the first woman in Genesis 3. One would come, it said. He is promised, it said. Wait, it said.

 

For all of those like me that still yearn. For all of those that see the brokenness in both the world and in themselves, and long for the overdue mending to come. For those that find themselves longing and waiting, at times impatiently, for things to be different. For those that daily experience the tension that won’t go away…we wait. In this interregnum we wait for the twice-fulfilled promise, once as Bethlehem’s Child and once again soon as a cosmic reigning King.  

 

‘The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.’

–      Phillip Brooks, O Little Town of Bethlehem, 1868

 

In our longing, we hope.

 

-Dan J. Morse

Christmas 2025