Learning Helplessness

Theoretically, I knew, even before God allowed us to have our own children, that parenting was a shaping experience. I knew that it forced people to grow up and change. I knew it was supposed to mold and improve one’s character.

What I never expected was how.

I always thought that parenting made us different people because we had more responsibilities and more people to care for. I thought the hardest things would be mustering enough strength and wisdom to do the right thing each and every time.

Little did I expect that the one thing about parenting that compels me to grow spiritually day after day after day is how much it makes me feel helpless.

For the record, I hate feeling helpless. I have always been the type of person to be over-prepared for everything in life. I think, rethink, and overthink. I plan, replan, and plan some more. As a student, I hated pop quizzes but thrived on scheduled exams. As a wife, teacher, and mother, I operate on checklists and spreadsheets of every single kind.

When I encounter problems, my instinct is to research. My go-to coping mechanism is to arm myself with knowledge and to form a plan of attack, to somehow feel more in control by having more information in my arsenal. I’ve done this for illnesses, for tests, for projects, for events.

But if I were to be honest with myself, it really is just an fancy way of leaning on my own understanding.

Parenting forces me to reckon with the times when all that preparation falls short.

With parenting, I’ve shed tears over milk ducts that refuse to make any more milk despite putting myself through every supplement and suggested practice there was. With parenting, I’ve watched helplessly as the thermometer keeps showing me 38, 39, and maybe even 40 degrees as I wipe down and comfort and feed medicine to a crying sick child. With parenting, I hear advice from people and websites and professionals that may well contradict each other and realize I am destined to fail by one standard or another no matter what choices I make.

With parenting, I come face to face with my children’s character flaws and my own, powerless to overcome them without the Holy Spirit. With parenting, all the information and knowledge I can amass fall short in addressing the needs of the human heart.

And in the midst of that helplessness, I learn to turn to God. In the midst of that helplessness, I am forced to reckon with how little I truly can control and achieve.

I don’t like feeling helpless. But hard as it is, being forced to learn my own helplessness has been the best way to make me learn dependence on God.

When it comes to this area of life, I’m not exactly a good student. I keep forgetting my lessons and keep having to be reminded of them again and again and again.

But I hope that every time I come face to face with my own limitations, I will learn just a little bit better. I will remember better. I will recognize the truth more readily. And even if I might never prefer the feeling of feeling helpless, may I come to embrace how it directs me towards a truer, fuller dependence upon the Lord.

Our Story: A Testimony

2013: THE HOPES THAT FELL EMPTY

It was always our dream to start a family together and have multiple children.

From the moment we became husband and wife, we looked forward to becoming parents. We made plans, we picked names, and we dreamed our share of dreams about what sort of family we wanted. We even delayed travel plans on the hope of a pregnancy that never happened!

But it wasn’t God’s plan for all those dreams and expectations to come to fruition in the way we wanted, and it was a hard lesson learned through month after month of waiting that stretched into years.

The continuous disappointment hurt. Children’s parties and baby showers became hard to attend, a reminder of what we couldn't have. Our social lives grew lonelier as our friends “overtook” us and turned their focus on their own children. Social pressures mounted, as many assumed we didn't want kids or were doing it wrong. We continued to pray, and welcomed the prayers of friends, family, and church members.

We wanted the gift of children, and the people around us wanted us to have the gift of children, but God had a better plan that we couldn't yet understand.

For two long years, we wrestled with our dreams of children and God's will for us. We made the rounds with many doctors, most of which were suggested by friends and family and church members. We tried different medicines and herbal treatments. We were told to try methods from other religions or to pray to other gods, neither of which we did. We held firm in our belief that God knew better, and the end never justifies the means. At the end of the day, we knew that the desire for children should never take the place of glorifying God, and we chose not to pursue anything that would point to other faiths, distract us spiritually, or negatively affect our marriage.

If God withheld children, He did so for a reason. And even though it was not up to us to know why, it was up to us to content ourselves and serve Him with whatever He did give.

2015: THE YEAR OF NEW BEGINNINGS

The third year of marriage was a turning point for us, and not for reasons most people would expect.

God still didn’t give us children. He still didn’t let us be parents. That part of His plan was not something we even knew would happen yet. But it was around this time in our marriage that we learned to not just be content with our life as a married couple without kids - but to embrace that stage in full.

We focused our time and energy on work, studies, and ministry. Wen earned her Masters through online studies while Tim took several courses at seminary. We enjoyed God's abundant blessings to us together. We travelled, and experienced the beauty and marvel of God's creation. We broadened our horizons both physically and mentally. We took on more ministries and thrived in our freedom.

Even with no children in sight, our hearts and lives were full.

And even though our childlessness was still a cross to bear, even though seeing our friends easily get pregnant left and right was still difficult, we knew we weren’t just waiting for life to happen.

God gave us a special season of life we did not expect to have, and the best thing we could do with that season was to live it to the fullest.

2017: THE BABIES WE NEVER MET

In 2017, after almost five years of marriage, the Lord led us to pursue fertility treatment locally with KATO Biotech Repro Center in Makati. It wasn’t our first consultation with an IVF clinic. We had previously visited other ones, both locally and internationally, and received different levels of suggested intervention.

None of the other ones felt right.

A lot of clinics did not value the embryos as we did. They were willing to discard or manipulate the embryos to get a desired result, such as getting a specific gender or removing health defects. We believed that the embryos contained human life and to treat them so callously was against our beliefs.

KATO was different. They understood the value of the embryos, and made every effort to keep all the embryos alive. They would not allow gender selection, nor would they manipulate the embryos in any way. We appreciated how they respected our privacy, our convictions, and our medical perspectives. They rejoiced with us when our embryos were improving, and mourned with us when we lost them.

After much prayer, we proceeded with our first round of IVF. Three cycles later, we had two Day-2 cleavage embryos frozen while one Day-5 blastocyst embryo was transferred into Wen’s womb.

The odds were good. Wen was not even thirty at the time, a young age for IVF. The embryo implanted, the pregnancy test came back positive, and a general attitude of optimism filled the families as everyone within our immediate circles traded congratulations.

But something was off. In the next few weeks, the embryo had been growing steadily, but we couldn't find any heartbeats. The embryo had split, creating identical twins, but neither developed past a yolk sac. The doctors at KATO wanted to hold out hope that the babies would still grow, but by Week 12, the truth had settled in: the babies never made it. And after a month of waiting, Wen underwent a D&C.

It wasn’t the ending everyone wanted, but it was what the Lord allowed; and we could only trust that He worked all things for the good of His purposes even as we mourned.

2019: THE BABIES WHO BEAT THE ODDS

After the heartbreak of our first IVF transfer, we didn't feel particularly keen to rush into the next one. But two of our embryos - two tiny human beings - still remained frozen, and we knew we were responsible to give them the chance at life they needed.

Two years after our first IVF transfer, we made time to place the two remaining embryos in the womb. The odds were clearly against them from the start. There were significantly lower survival rates for Day-2 embryos compared to Day-5 embryos. And when the Day-5 one we transferred years ago didn’t make it, what chances did these have after being frozen for 2 years?

But God is not a God of human chances.

We braced ourselves for the worst, and accepted that we would see it through no matter what happened. Yet milestone after milestone, from implantation to heartbeats to “graduation” from our clinic, we watched in awe at the babies’ resilience. By the second trimester, we were allowed to move to the care of a regular doctor, and the weeks and months continued to pass, with the babies passing all their tests and scans.

At 18 weeks gestation, we learned that we were expecting a boy and a girl. One of the things we valued about KATO was that they did not scan the embryos for gender or allow people to “choose” what genders they wanted to place in the womb. That assurance allowed us to rest in the knowledge that God chose this for us.

On June 24, 2020, after having spent half of the pregnancy in lockdown, we welcomed Minela Rey Eliza and Michael James Liam via scheduled C-section at 38 weeks gestation: two healthy, full-term, IVF babies God has entrusted to our care.

2020: THE YEAR OF THE HOME QUARANTINE

Over the years, we’ve had our chance to dream and imagine what parenthood might look like for us. A worldwide pandemic with huge, localized lockdowns was definitely not something we ever expected.

But we have so much to be thankful for. From the timely arrival of a household helper to the generosity of loved ones to the precious time we get to spend being hands-on with the babies, we experience God’s abundant grace over and over again each day.

The days can feel long, the nights even longer. The demands of everyday faithfulness in all the little things can sometimes make us feel weary and worn.

But up-close, hands-on parenting has allowed us to witness God’s grace in a host of ways that we never did before. Parenting makes you pray about things you never expected to pray about: from making sure a baby poops to thanking God for diaper sales to celebrating little things like baby smiles and baby cuddles. And when the going gets rough (because it often does), we are driven to our knees all the more to beg for His wisdom and strength.

We thank God for twins who can keep each other company even during a quarantined babyhood. We thank God for the years we had to build a solid marriage between us before we had to steward two tiny human beings together. We thank God that He is, above all, our Father. And we have a model for parental love because He first loved us.

The days, months, and years ahead may be everything or nothing like we’ve ever imagined. But we rest content in knowing that our God is in control.

We pray that we will be good stewards of these children, and that they will grow to know and love the Lord as we have, and follow in our spiritual footsteps however God leads them. To God be the glory!

Reaping Dividends

It's an unexpected season, a time of mingled stillness and caution that caught us all off-guard. A one-month quarantine, with perhaps more to come, has forced so many of us to face a complete change in habits, hopes, and lifestyle.

I admit I've had difficulties adjusting as well. There are logistical, emotional, and financial challenges that we all encounter. There are fears, and there are concerns. There are beautiful moments of strength as well as ceaseless reasons for despair. There is anger, and there is hope. There is outcry, assurance, anxiety, and uncertainty left and right.

And through it all, I learn to appreciate several blessings that the Lord has allowed in our lives that I have come to treasure so much more during this quarantine season. These things didn't happen overnight. These things were built upon day by day, through the years. And it is by God's grace alone that we are reaping the benefits of years of prudence.

1. Relationships. I thank God that I live in a home where there is love, respect, and joy, even as I weep for those who do not have this. Years of learning to appreciate each other, of learning to embrace our respective roles in a God-ordained marriage, yield us the fruit of a marriage that is a source of happiness and peace. We hear of couples fighting, of family members who cannot stand to be around each other as the days of quarantine go by. We uplift these people in prayer, and we thank the Lord daily for a blissful marriage where we're actually glad to share so much time and space with each other.

2. Finances. We are not wealthy, in the grand scheme of things. We do not own big corporations or work as executives in high-powered companies. But the Lord has blessed us with enough financial comfort through the years to have saved up for a rainy day. There are many people who do not have this privilege, and we try our best to succor the needs of those whom we can assist, from employees to neighbors to friends. But we are thankful, so very thankful, that the Lord uses our choices in the past to sustain us through potential weeks of financial challenge. 

3. Technology. It sounds funny, almost trivial, but I do thank God every day that I have a husband who has always made sure we are technologically equipped in a changing world. From finding the best phone and Internet plans to investing in quality gadgets for the two of us, his chosen priorities have equipped us to be well-prepared for this time of remote, online living.

4. Home. I love being home, and that is a fact no matter how much I may miss the mall or the spa or the office or church. I thank God that He has used the prudence of the past and the generosity of family to give us a home that is secure, independent, well-situated, and comfortable. It does not feel like a chore to be quarantined at home because we are blessed with a safe and pleasant place to stay.

5. Faith. Above all, I thank God that He has allowed us to know Him in a personal, vibrant way that knows no walls or limitations. We are freed by the Word and not chained to rituals or sacraments for our salvation. We can worship in spirit and in truth no matter where we are. We serve a God who is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. And even as we close ourselves off from the rest of the world, we are privileged to keep loving and serving Him in the arena of our private lives.

It's not an ideal time for anyone, but I cannot help but praise the Lord for the ways He does continue to bless!

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord

It's been a year. It's been 365 days since we were told by our somber-faced doctor that the twins in my womb were decidedly, irretrievably gone. We knew about the pregnancy at the 3-week mark. We learned that we were expecting identical twins at the 6-week mark. Then, at seven weeks, our short-lived parenthood came to an end.

It wasn't a simple matter. The products of conception would stay stubbornly in my body, anchored to my system with ironic security, for another two months before we proceeded with a D&C. I suffered morning sickness, including all the sores and vomiting, without ever meeting our children. The journey before and after those three hopeful weeks ran the length of almost an entire year.

It took me time to open up about it. We tried to grieve privately, telling only our immediate family, closest friends, or people whom we knew had similar experiences. We were aware that there were people who would care and offer genuine, godly comfort in the face of our sorrow. But I also knew there would be way too many people who would react (intentionally or misguidedly) in unhelpful ways.

I saw my friends who'd had miscarriages before bombarded with judgment or demands: "Maybe it was something you did or something you ate." "Maybe you didn't rest." "You were too stressed." "You didn't do this." "You should have done that." "You should have known better."

Pregnancy loss is a keen, life-changing sorrow - and all these empty words just sound like "It was your fault. You killed your baby." to couples who are already grieving.

The length to which expecting couples, especially mothers, go for the benefit of their unborn children is immeasurable. It's heartbreaking that their sacrifices and adjustments could be so flippantly discussed just because the Lord has chosen to give and then take away.

So I kept quiet.

I chose not to tell people because I was so afraid of the inevitable condemnation that I would rather sacrifice the potential solace.

Thank God that His grace is always sufficient.

During one session of our shared devotional time late last year, the book Tim and I were using asked us to discuss what the darkest time of our married life was.

To our surprise, we realized that the loss of our twins - our detour into the valley of the shadow of death - was the time when the goodness, faithfulness, and sovereignty of the Lord shone the brightest in our lives.

Sometimes, it takes darkness for us to appreciate the light even more.

Three months after the miscarriage, an older sister in Christ pulled me aside after church. This was a mother of one of our close friends. I figured she might have heard of what had happened to us.

I braced myself for the queries and judgment - for the abundant unsolicited advice so inevitable in our tight-knit Filipino-Chinese community.

What I didn't expect was for her to hug me and whisper, "Wen, I admire you so much. To know what you guys have gone through and to still see you and Tim loving and serving the Lord so faithfully. I appreciate it so, so much. Praise the Lord for your faithfulness."

I cried.

Even now, as I write about the memory, I cry.

We don't know what the next chapter of God's story for us will be. We have our hopes and our wishes - but, most of all, we seek for His will.

And I pray, I pray so hard, that no matter what He chooses to give or to take away in His omnipotence and grace - that we would be able to show with our lives that, indeed, blessed be the name of the Lord.

An Open Mother's Day Letter to the Childless Women around the World

Dear Ladies,

Yes, it's Mother's Day weekend again. It's that most horrible day in the entire year once more.

It's that day when social media is plastered with pictures of old and new families showing off their first, fifth, or fiftieth Mother's Day in your face. It's the day when every single restaurant is filled with promotions that don't apply to you. It's the day when every single time or place is a reminder of what we want and cannot have.

I've been there, I'm still there, and I will be here for as long as Providence wants me to be.

I'm happily married to a wonderful husband. We get to travel and save up and honeymoon forever in ways our peers who are tied down with kids can't. We have mothers and grandmothers who love us and pray for us, and we celebrate them. Life is good. But still, infertility sucks.

It takes a while for the term to sink in, doesn't it? In-fertility: what a term. It's as if we're rotten, incomplete, or broken. "Single" is a different term from "married" altogether. "Joy" and "sadness" even sound unalike. But "infertility"? That's labeling us by something we don't have. It's like being called abnormal, imperfect, or substandard.

And it stings like crazy.

It took me two years and a gazillion articles before I could accept the label. It takes time to acknowledge that maybe the timeline of my life isn't the norm. And it also takes time to accept that I can be happy exactly where I am.

And then the second Sunday of May happens.

Boom! The floodgates open, and I am a sobbing mess once more.

There's nothing wrong with Mother's Day. It's wonderful to celebrate the love of mothers everywhere, and it's perfectly fine to share that joy publicly.

But for those of us who pine so painfully, try so relentlessly, pray so unceasingly, and yearn so deeply for children - but don't have them - Mother's Day can feel like a slap on the face.

It's like Valentine's Day for singles, I know.

And it's a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone.

I know what it feels like to be mistaken for pregnant at a mall, given a free item, and have that item taken back once they realize I was just fat. I know what it feels like to attend a family reunion where every woman greets the other ladies enthusiastically with a loud, cheery, "Happy Mother's Day!" only to stop awkwardly when they get to me.

I've even stood to the side at church, trying to subdue my tears while all the other women greet each other. Then in the midst of my vehement struggle, a young mom who was formerly facing infertility rushes up to me to say, "Wen! Look! I have a baby now! Come see! Come see!"

For a day so wonderful and warm and full of maternal love, today sure sucks.

But it doesn't end there.

Thank God, it doesn't end there.

Because I am living for something greater than myself.

Ladies, meet Jesus. He is the Lover of My Soul. He is the ever-living God. He is everything I could ever want and everything I have.

And He doesn't love me any less even if I never have children.

In fact, He gives me anything that could possibly be good for me. After all, there is no good thing that He withholds from those who walk His way.

I love Him.

And He loves me.

That is more than the love any throngs of children could give me.

He shows His love in so many ways, including through a devoted husband.

And whether or not I have children one day will never diminish how much I am worth to Him. He will never greet me by an earthly label and then apologize for His mistake. He will never stare awkwardly at me, not knowing what to say. He will also never measure me by how I compare to the expected norms of life.

And because of Him, I can watch others celebrate and not find myself lacking. Because of Him, I can learn to be joyful in all circumstances. Because of Him, I can survive the onslaught of Mother's Day.

Would you let Him do the same for you?

Love,
Wenslyn

To Fail at Failing

I've made no secret of our struggles with infertility. We've wanted kids from day one, been proactively adjusting our lifestyles to make room for children. We've gone through phases of quiet waiting, waiting for the Lord to intervene naturally. We've also gone through phases when the Lord leads us to try doctors, medications, procedures, and tests that poke holes in us and cause mood swings and make the journey feel even longer.

Suffice it to say that so far, neither phases have actually brought us any children.

And you know what? Sometimes, that problem looms larger than it has to because we've just never been conditioned to face failure.

The statistics tell us what to expect. Seventy-five percent of Millenials will marry, and eighty-five percent of couples will conceive after one year of trying. The majority of Filipino marriages withstand divorce, and over half a million people in our country successfully finish college every year.

But we never expect to end up in the minority.

And to be honest? The minority isn't exactly fun.

Valentine's Day sucks when your singleness is shoved in your face. Mother's Day is the worst day of the entire year when you, still, somehow, remain childless. Seeing people celebrate their 20th, 30th, or 50th anniversary can come with a bitter sting for those in broken marriages.

Time and again, people tell me to go to certain doctors who are "so good and have made hundreds of people pregnant." What they don't know is that I've already gone to those doctors. I've been there, done that - and come home teary-eyed and empty-handed. People like me don't tell you success stories because we have don't have them.

And, also, because no one wants to hear failure stories.

No one celebrates the matchmaking session that ended with awkwardly ruined friendships. No one tells you stories of the times they've gone through intrusive procedures and ruthless rounds of medication just to chase that elusive next child. No one tells you what to do when your child's health is confirmed to have worsened rather than improved, despite your every effort to nurture him.

As Christians, when we give ourselves unequal expectations, then we're sometimes not ready to brave the disappointments that inevitably come with this life.

There are 25% of Millenials who will never get married. There are 15% of couples who will not conceive after one year of trying. There are 50% of Asian marriages that will end up in some form of estrangement or divorce. There are millions of people who face the daily reality of health struggles, widowhood, secondary infertility, or inability to finish school.

Only when the Lord is our Rock, our Strength, our Everything - can we be ready to weather those off-chances.

As Christians, we're not supposed to be poster children for earthly success. We're supposed to shine God's light and spread His salt by persevering despite earthly imperfections. Yes, the church can celebrate and give thanks for triumphs, but we can't neglect the realities of stumbles as well.

A truly strong Christian testimony should result in joy in all circumstances. A person dealing with his or her valley of the shadow of death should be able to walk up to other people in church and find true Christian encouragement rather than pity or disdain. We as Christians shouldn't be praying for a smooth-sailing life. We pray for a life of walking with God.

Having that walk is what strengthens us for real life. Having that walk is what guarantees a "successful" life - defined the right way.

When I Grow Up

"I want to be a mom!"

That was my answer from day one. I was five, having braved half a decade of existence with gusto, when I made that declaration. Over the years, other opinions came and went. I went through the flight attendant stage, the fashion designer stage, the celebrity chef stage, and even the princess stage (Prince William was still single then, okay?).

But the fundamental wish never changed.

I wanted to be a mom. That was my goal in life.

I still do want to be a mom...but that's not my goal in life.

Biology aside, becoming a good mom required being a good wife first. My urgency to get to that stage almost caused multiple stupidities as a single girl. I knew I wanted to be a mom; so I had to find a husband by necessity. At that time, any random one would do.

God, of course, had better plans. It's by His miraculous guidance that I fell in love with my husband and married him as soon as we knew it was His will.

In my mind, step one was done.

Becoming a mom - the ultimate dream - felt only a stone's throw away.

For the first 18 months of marriage, I constantly expected myself to be pregnant. Month after month, I bought pregnancy tests. Month after month, I geared myself up to buy maternity clothes. Week after week, I tracked my body. Week after week, I nodded silently as family members gave me mythic tips on how to get pregnant. Day after day, I sacrificed high heels and caffeine and eating processed food.

Day after day, I cried.

Why wasn't it happening? Upon multiple occasions, I had dear older people in church walking up to me to say, "You should have kids as soon as possible. Don't wait until you're older."

It pained me every single time to say, "I know. I know."

I wasn't waiting. We wanted kids, and we wanted them right away. We even expected to be holding a child (or at least a pregnant belly) by the time our first anniversary rolled along.

God didn't let that happen.

We ran tests. We took medication. We consulted doctors both Western and Oriental in training. We consulted doctors for women, doctors for men. We got masseuses, herbs, vitamins, and a dozen other means of supposedly aiding fertility.

Our bodies aren't perfect. We can have kids, but it's hard to have them.

The thought was sobering.

But God is our sun and shield. No good thing does He withhold from those whose walk is blameless.

He is the strength of our hearts, and our portion forever.

He sent people to cross our paths. A wonderful church deaconess reminded me that having children or not didn't matter in eternity. A pastor's wife shared with me that God's legacy in us reached beyond that of sons or daughters. A loving husband reminds me repeatedly that he will never love me any less even if I never bear him any children.

Don't get me wrong. We received tons of wrong advice too.

Some people said that it would surely happen someday, though they couldn't guarantee it. Some people told me I just didn't have enough faith. Some others claimed that I just "didn't want it enough."

Friends and family conceive - quickly and repeatedly - and I feel that life is just utterly unfair.

They sound silly in my saner days. But whenever I come home after a family reunion where EVERYONE had a kid, I feel lonely and sad and feeling entirely inadequate. When Mother's Day rolls around and a new mother runs up to me to say, "Look! Look! I have a baby now!"...I still go home and cry out half of my body's water content.

It's in those days that I forget what it truly means to be a Christian, and all the wrong advice sounds almost right.

Being a Christian means that there is nothing on earth I desire besides God. It means that despite what society might tell me, my life is not missing anything.

I am complete.

I am complete in Him.

I am not living an unfinished life. I am not in any way less of a person than the person with half a dozen kids. I am a child of a King. That's all that matters.

Hey, guess I did end up being a princess, after all.

When I grow up, I still want to be a mom; but I don't HAVE to be one.

Not having children allows us to study, to shop, to grow, to travel, and to do so many things we wouldn't be able to if we were tied down with any children. Not having kids lets us have so many more years alone to prune and fine-tune our marriage. Not having kids helps me understand what it means to be complete, complete in my God.

I am the child of a King. Nothing else really matters. And even when I forget that at times, it doesn't make it any less true.

The Right to Sin

Human rights, and the defense thereof, comprise the battle cry of many an international organization today. Indeed, many regions in the world, including those in my ancestral land, show inadequate respect for human rights. Innocent people are bullied, enslaved, or even sentenced to death by those who are socially or politically in power. Individuals encounter discrimination even when they do no wrong to deserve it. Yet what if they do indeed do wrong? Then we have a problem.

There is a thin line between granting basic human rights and condoning sinfulness in today’s world. Whereas slavery, unfair trials, and undue discrimination should be uprooted, many other issues that hide behind the mask of human rights do not merit the same treatment. Human beings—lovingly created in the image of God—have the right to be protected from sin. We have the right to be protected from physical abuse, from wrong accusations that lead to death sentences, and from denial of service based on our God-given ethnicities. I salute the historical heroes who have sacrificed much in their own lives in order to ensure those rights are met. Today, however, there is a growing movement in multiple nations to push the boundaries of human rights towards an ungodly agenda—a “right” to sin.

The individuals behind this agenda are crafty with their words. Abortion is no longer called murder, but a right to choose. Same-sex marriage is not properly identified as open sodomy, but as a right to equality. Behind the deceitfulness of these terms is the blasphemous belief that an act of deliberate sin can be a “right.” If Christians are not careful to see through this ungodly ideology, the next generation is in very grave danger. Once murder of unborn children and sinful application of sexuality become “rights,” other sins and crimes with more far-reaching consequences are merely years away from becoming “right.”

Please understand that I am not advocating any hatred towards those who believe differently than I do. Every human being born today is born a sinner. My loved ones and I are no exceptions. Just because someone has sinned or has the temptation to sin does not devalue him as a person. I despise homosexuality, but I do not disrespect the individuals who have sinned in this aspect. In the eyes of the extreme left, I am a “homophobe”—someone who believes in God’s definition of sexuality, someone who believes that God made men and women different for a reason, someone who believes the Bible contains God’s moral standard. I believe I am in no way better a sinner than people who choose homosexual lifestyles, but I am a villain in their eyes just for believing that they—with God’s help—can be capable of refusing to sin.

We are all sinners. I am, however, a sinner saved by grace; many others are not as fortunate to have come to that liberating salvation. In a mostly unsaved world, we have the right of protection from others’ sins—but not one of us have the right to sin.