THIRTY-ONE YEARS AGO I HEARD THE SILENT SCREAM; WILL I FINALLY SEE THE END OF THE ABORTION HOLOCAUST I HAVE BEEN FIGHTING SINCE THAT NIGHT?
It was a warm August night in 1987 when four young kids took the stage at a church in Anaheim, California, and changed my life forever. I was only a week into my Christian journey and just looking for some good music to listen to that would encourage me in my new faith. I was not expecting to find my calling in life that night, but that is exactly what happened when the band The Crucified began to sing a song entitled “The Silent Scream”.
I left that concert with a cassette tape that I listened to over and over and over. I took to heart the words of the song and the words that Stacey, the drummer’s then-girlfriend, now-wife, shared with me about abortion and what it really was. I could not stop thinking about what was going on in our world that I had been blind to for so many years. I could not erase the thought of a baby screaming for life while a doctor was intentionally killing a human being he was trained to heal.
Over the next few years I began to speak out against abortion, wearing pro-life t-shirts and putting stickers on my scooter and helmet. I began to collect and distribute pro-life literature. My journey to full-time pro-life activist had begun but I had not yet realized this was my life’s calling.
It was a couple years later when my friend Chris invited me to a pro-life event in downtown Los Angeles. We met up with a my friend, Elisa, and her mom at an abortion mill where a giant protest was taking place. I had a Mohawk and tattoos and most of the pro-abortion protesters thought I was one of them. They asked me to stand and guard the door, and to hold it open to allow women in to get an abortion.
I had heard about Operation Rescue and how its members would sacrificially sit in front of the doors in prayer to buy time for counselors to offer women an alternative to abortion. They would be arrested for laying their lives down for the sake of the precious children scheduled to die that day.
When I saw that young woman walking toward the door I was holding open, I had no choice; I had to do something to try to protect her child from what was about to happen. In the middle of hundreds of screaming pro-abortion activists, I slammed the door shut and linked my arms to the handles as the crowd around me realized I was actually pro-life.
I was hit, kicked and spat upon.
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