the books, montag!

I took a little road trip this weekend. Up to Virginia for a few days to visit the Stand True Crew and, on Friday, up to Pennsylvania to see even more Stand True people (Bryan the Kemper, his lovely assistant Rachel, Emma the hobbit, and of course Jodie, one of many hippies who call Stand True home.) It was pretty great, like a family reunion, but no weird uncle and even less potato salad.

So I was set to leave Wilmington on Thursday, and on Tuesday I went to the library to check out some audio books. You see, I very wisely gave up music for Lent. I use the word “wisely” in complete faith. Had I known that I was going to take a road trip involving around 15 hours of drive time, I may have reconsidered the decision altogether. Which is most likely why I didn’t know if I was going until the last minute. God knows His kids.

Anyway, one of the books I checked out was Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. (Awesome by the way. You should read it. After you read my blog.) So I’m on my way to PA, listening to my audio book, and one of the characters during a conversation about his dead grandfather says, “He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.” In comparison to the rest of the book, this is a much lesser quote, but it absolutely stuck to me as I started to think it over.

If we look at life as a series of moments, one direct experience after another, it gets big. Really big. It’s not 90 years, its about 18 million moments. 18 million chances to experience God’s love and mercy and favor. And then if we consider all the other people who will inevitably enter into our moments, and how our moment will affect theirs, which will in turn affect someone else’s–it’s like the ripple effect of all time. We are continuously moving from moment to moment, experiencing the world one 60-second interval at a time.

So where am I going with this? Why am I talking about how we experience life? Because after that great rhapsody of thought, after the weight of a life truly lived settled in my mind, the weight of a life truly lost followed.

When a baby is aborted, it’s not just a life that ends, it’s an entire world of possibility torn away from a child of God. He crafted that child, He set her spirit in motion, started the clock on her 18 million moments and said “Go for it kid. You have your Father’s creativity and my Son’s grace. Live your moments.”

That’s what is lost. A life and more. Not only will that child never have the chance to meet the world, the world will never have the chance to meet that child. And it could have been good. Real good. And the reason I choose to stand for life, the reason I choose to follow God wherever He takes this, is because I cannot sit back and watch the Enemy steal this generation’s potential. To put us in a place so broken and so full of death that we can no longer hear God’s voice whisper, “Go for it kid. You have your Father’s creativity and my Son’s grace.” I’m not for that. I’m for God.

Hopefully you guys read the last blog and are considering submitting an entry for this year’s contest. If you’re waiting for some confirmation, here’s a note from the Lord: DO IT! Do it and start becoming a voice for the ones who have no voice. Give some of your moments for the ones who only experienced a few, the last of which were spent in immense pain. It’s really not that difficult when you have the source of creation on Your side. Pray for wisdom, come up with an idea, and ENTER THE CONTEST.

That’s all I have for now. Pictures of the march will be up next week, if not sooner.

Peace of the Lord,


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