80 Sermon Illustrations on Disability

Christmas will be special this year because of the birth of a "special" child into our family. Michael Steadman has Down syndrome with apparent deafness, but he has awakened our senses to a new awareness of the presence of God as we celebrate the birthday of a special baby born in a manger 2,000 years ago.

Following the birth of Michael in November, our daughter temporarily experienced some physical problems, and with the routine of caring for an infant, naturally had less time for their two older children, Rebekah, 3, and Travis, 5.

Their hard-working dad bridged the gap as much as possible.

Although missing some of their accustomed attention, Travis and Rebekah showed only tender love toward their new brother, eagerly holding and cuddling him at every opportunity.

After Travis had held the baby for an unusually long time, his grandfather asked, "Are you getting tired?"

"I never get tired of holding my brother," Travis replied.

About two weeks after the new baby arrived, Rebekah came home from church with her dad and Travis.

"How was church?" her mother asked.

"Nobody hugged me," Rebekah answered.

After a contemplative pause, she added, "They didn't see me. They just saw my dress."

The Bible says, "From the mouth of infants and nursing babes...."

How often we see only the external and not the hurting soul beneath. How many people at church, at work or on the street are inwardly crying out, "They don't see ME. They see only my dress."

Copyright (c) 1995 Baptist Press RNbp5C08mrjB5C08g5C18

#3652

*

Even before the Nazi Party came to power, the doctors of Weimar Germany began to divide humanity into those who should live and those who should die. They developed the category of “life unworthy of life” in order to designate those whose infirmity, deformity, race or lifestyle rendered them subhuman in terms of rights.

Similarly, the eugenicists of the 20th century -- in America as well as in Europe -- divided humanity into the “fit” and the “unfit,” and called for more children from the fit, less from the unfit.

Now, word comes from London that a physician has used preimplantation genetic testing to allow a woman to become pregnant with a baby that is free of a breast cancer gene. In order to produce this baby, six embryos found to carry the gene were rejected.

As The Telegraph (London) explains:

“Only one other woman is believed to have become pregnant after undergoing the same screening technique, called pre-implantation diagnosis (PGD).

“Critics claim it is unethical because it means viable embryos are destroyed. There are also fears it could lead to the creation of ‘designer babies’ that are chosen for their looks or intelligence.

“The British woman said she felt she had to go through the invasive IVF treatment even though she and her husband are fertile in order to try and safeguard her child.”

The paper went so far as to label the child a “designer baby.” This is precisely what many ethicists fear. Viable human embryos were discarded because they were found to carry a genetic marker that involves a risk -- perhaps a significant risk -- of later disease.

Where does this stop? Proponents of the technology complain that using phrases like “designer baby” is unfair, since no current technology allows a parent to “order” a child complete with all chosen traits. But that complaint misses the point. The designation of any trait -- even the negative designation -- creates a designer baby. Someone has decided that some trait is unacceptable.

In this case it was a gene linked to cancer. What next? We already know that the vast majority of babies diagnosed with Down syndrome are now aborted. How long before there is a preimplantation screen for that syndrome? Couples are now screening embryos for gender. How long before athletic ability or earning potential is linked to a gene? Blond hair? Blue eyes?

The Weimar doctors would be proud. The doctors behind this new technology assure us that their only concern is the improvement of human health. So did the Weimar doctors and the eugenicists. Health can be used as an argument for destroying life, it seems.

The tragedy is that vast millions of couples would almost surely take advantage of this technology should it become more widely available. The end would justify the means, they would rationalize.

The laboratory is now a dangerous place for human embryos. They can be destroyed for stem cell research, frozen pending sale, and rejected after genetic testing. This points to a very sad reality -- there is now a search and destroy mission targeting human embryos considered unworthy and unwanted.

Life unworthy of life. Where have we heard that before?

*

[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #6742]

During Vacation Bible School last week a pastor's wife had an experience with her primary class that she says she will never forget. Her class was interrupted on Wednesday about an hour before dismissal when a new student was brought in. The little boy had one arm missing, and since the class was almost over, she had no opportunity to learn any of the details about the cause or his state of adjustment. She was very nervous and afraid that one of the other children would comment on his handicap and embarrass him. There was no opportunity to caution them, so she proceeded as carefully as possible.

As the class time came to a close, she began to relax. She asked the class to join her in their usual closing ceremony. "Let's make our churches," she said. "Here's the church and here's the steeple, open the doors and there's..." The awful truth of her own actions struck her. The very thing she had feared that the children would do, she had done. As she stood there speechless, the little girl sitting next to the boy reached over with her left hand and placed it up to his right hand and said, "Davey, let's make the church together."

*

Some years ago Dr. Frederic Loomis, an obstetrician, faced one of the greatest challenges of his life. One of his patients, a fragile young woman, was carrying her first child. As best he could, he sought to help her as she struggled to keep her emotional and nervous reactions under control.

One month before the baby was due, a routine examination showed that the baby was in a breach position. That is, instead of coming into the world head first (which is the safest way for a baby to be born), the baby comes feet or seat first. The danger with these births is that the umbilical cord can get compressed between the baby’s head and the mother’s bony pelvis cutting off the tiny infant’s supply of oxygen – without which the baby will die in a few short minutes. Time is of the greatest essence in these births.

This particular case was a "complete" breach – the baby’s legs and feet being folded under it, tailor-fashion. As the baby was ready to be born, Dr. Loomis gently drew down on one little foot. Next he drew on the other foot, but it didn’t respond. As the baby’s body moved down, he noticed that it was a girl. And then, only he saw that the entire thigh from the hip to the knee was missing. Quickly he wrapped the warm towel – readied to keep the baby’s body warm while struggling to be born – around the baby’s one leg.

Then followed the greatest struggle Dr. Loomis ever faced. He envisioned a girl growing up different from her peers, sitting alone, being gawked at, unable to participate in any kind of athletic activities, never being invited out on dates – lonely, insecure and forlorn.

He could also "see" the agony of this young mother with such a burden to carry. "Don’t bring this suffering upon them," he reasoned to himself. "This baby has never taken a breath – don’t let her ever take one."

He glanced at the clock. Three of the allotted seven or eight minutes had passed. Nobody in the room knew of his struggle and intention. He would slow the birth. Nobody else would ever know. In a few short minutes it would all end. The mother would grieve but would be greatly relieved that she didn’t have the responsibility of bringing up such a handicapped child.

Right then the baby’s good foot popped out from beneath the towel and pressed against the doctor’s hand. Then her body heaved with a surge of energy – it was wanting to be born.

The doctor could not do what he planned. He delivered the baby with her pitiful little leg.

Dr. Loomis said, "Every foreboding came true. The mother was in a hospital for several months. I saw her once or twice and she looked like a wraith of her former self. I heard of them indirectly from time to time ... Finally I lost track of them altogether.

"As the years went on, I blamed myself bitterly for not having had the strength to yield to my temptation."

Years later, as was the custom of the nurses at the hospital where Dr. Loomis served, an impressive Christmas party for the hospital staff and doctors was held. This year was particularly interesting. Every doctor and staff member who could be there was.

When the nurses, beautifully attired in their spotless uniforms, entered in procession, the audience stood as one to honor them. Then, from the back of the auditorium entered twenty more young nurses, each holding a lighted candle and singing the familiar strains of "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright...."

The spotlight then focused on the elaborately decorated Christmas tree with every decoration shimmering with unusual beauty. Then the spotlight moved to center stage as the curtain was slowly drawn aside to reveal three lovely young musicians, all in glistening white evening gowns – a harpist, a cello player, and a violinist. Together with the organ the beautiful harmony of their music brought tears to many eyes.

The harpist played so exceptionally well that at the close of the evening Dr. Loomis waited to congratulate her.

As he sat alone waiting, a lady came running down the aisle and with outstretched arms excitedly cried out, "You saw her. You must have recognized your baby. That was my daughter who played the harp – I saw you watching her. Don’t you remember the little girl who was born with only one good leg 17 years ago? We tried everything else first, but now she has a whole artificial leg on that side – but you would never know it, would you? She can walk, she can swim, and she can almost dance.

"But, best of all, through all those years when she couldn’t do those things, she learned to use her hands so wonderfully ... She is so happy ... And here she is!"

And then they met.... Instinctively Dr. Loomis reached out and embraced the one whose life he came so close to destroying before she had a chance to live.

"You will never know, my dear," he said, "you never will know, nor will anyone else in all the world, just what tonight has meant to me. Go back to your harp for a moment, please – and play ‘Silent Night’ for me alone. I have a load on my shoulders that no one has ever seen, a load that only you can take away." *

How precious is the gift of life. There is only one gift that is greater – that is the gift of eternal life.

Some time ago one of my sons was upset with me about something. What I did I have long since forgotten but I will never forget what he said. In his frustration he blurted out, "Why did you have me anyhow?"

I paused for a moment and then replied from the depths of my heart, "Because you were part of God’s eternal plan."

And that is true of you and me also. From the moment we were conceived in our mother’s womb, God knew us by name. And we, too, are a part of his eternal plan. But at our birth only God could see our handicap. We were deformed, too – not physically perhaps – but spiritually. Because of our sinful nature, we were born spiritually dead and cut off from God – the giver of all life. But because we were so precious to and so loved by him, he sent his Son, Jesus, on that first Christmas to come to earth to die in our place for our sins, to deliver us from eternal death, and to give to us the greatest gift of all – the gift of eternal life. God has this gift for you, too. Whatever you do, don’t leave earth without it. There could be no greater tragedy.

_________________________

* Adapted from CHRISTMAS IN MY HEART, Book 2, by Joe L. Wheeler. Herald Publishing Association, 55 W. Oak Ridge Drive, Hagerstown, MD 21740, U.S.A.

Written and © by Dick Innes

© 1998 ACTS International

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Another version by King Duncan:

Dr. Frederic Loomis faced the most difficult decision a physician could ever make -- whether to allow a deformed baby to live or die. He had only seconds to decide. Dr. Loomis had delivered hundreds of babies, but this one was different. The infant lay in a breech position, promising at best a difficult and dangerous birth. One of its feet stretched only to the knee of the other leg. Furthermore, it was missing a thigh. The mother, a frail person visiting the sterile delivery room for her first time, was not aware of the grossly deformed child struggling to survive.

Dr. Loomis closed his eyes; at his fingertips squirmed a pitiful creature yet unborn. Would not the most loving thing be to detain the birth long enough to cause the child to be stillborn? He agonized within himself. Will this kid not be considered a freak, a twisted burden to its delicate mother? How can I justify playing a part in such a cruel drama? Surely no one will ever know if I spare this family from inevitable pain. The doctor, through the baby's cord, felt its heartbeat -- dancing in rhythm to his own wildly racing heart. As Dr. Loomis continued to prevent the birth, he felt the normal foot pressing for passage into the world. Suddenly, he could no longer justify “playing God.” Instead, he would trust God to care for this child against what seemed to be impossible odds. Dr. Loomis delivered the infant into the world, which, he sensed, would be very unkind.

In the years that followed, Dr. Loomis often second-guessed his decision. He watched the anguish of the family as desperate parents sought in vain to find some correction for their child's deformity. Even after they moved away Dr. Loomis continued to lament the burden that he had saddled upon the family. The heartache, he often said to himself, was his fault.

In time, however, Dr. Loomis would find peace. It came at an unexpected time and place -- the hospital Christmas party. Typically, it was during the holiday season when his pain seemed most severe. He could not shake the image of that unfortunate child from his mind. While the world celebrated the greatest birth ever known, Dr. Loomis obsessed over the saddest birth he had ever known.

At this particular party, the most heavenly music filled the room. The sadness seemed to dissipate as the rich tones of “Silent Night” washed Dr. Loomis' anguished spirit. Following the concert, a woman approached him. “Doctor,” she said excitedly. “You saw her.”

Dr. Loomis studied the woman's face, wanting to recognize her but unable to recall the memory. “I'm sorry. I should know you, but you may need to help me.”

“Don't you remember the little girl with only one good leg, 17 years ago?”

Remember... it was the one thing in his life that he couldn't forget! In disbelief, he listened to her story.

“That baby was my daughter, doctor. And I saw you watching her play the harp tonight! She has an artificial leg. She's doing well.” At her Mom's bidding, the lovely harpist walked toward them. With soppy eyes, Dr. Loomis enveloped the girl in his arms.

“Please” he said in a tightening voice, “please play Silent Night' for me one more time.” The young lady returned to her harp and played his request with poise and perfection. As she played, Dr. Loomis reflected on the incredible gift of life. He thought about the sanctity in every person. And he exhaled 17 years of questions and wondering whether or not it was wise to grant a baby its life.

__________

By Karl Haffner, College Place, WA Source: Gleaner, August 2003, ISSN 0746-5874, mailto:gleaner@npuc.org. Cited in WITandWISDOM(tm) - August 6, 2003 ISSN 1538-8794.

*

For the past few years, I’ve been telling BreakPoint readers about our culture’s undeclared war on people with Down syndrome. Earlier this year, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists recommended that all pregnant women, regardless of age, undergo amniocentesis. Obviously that’s to put them under increasing pressure to abort the child if a genetic defect is detected.

I thought that I heard every possible argument for and against this barbarism, but I was wrong. Apparently, in addition to asking themselves “what would Jesus do?” women should ask themselves “what would Darwin advise?”

But Dr. Frank Boehm of Vanderbilt Medical Center has doubts about doctors’ ability to “adequately counsel patients” about having a child with Down syndrome. Properly counseling patients requires painting a balanced picture of life with such a child. Boehm points out that while there are “considerable challenges ... there are also many positive [aspects] as well.” Boehm cites his own experience with his grandson, who has Down syndrome.

Through his grandson, Boehm has come to appreciate the often “unappreciated” “richness” in these children’s lives. He sees how their parents feel that their child offers “love, affection, happiness, laughter and joy” as well as teaching “compassion and acceptance.”

Boehm’s position is a welcome addition to the debate over the treatment of children with Down syndrome. But part of Boehm’s argument has me scratching my head. He ended his piece by saying that not telling patients about these “positive aspects of life” would constitute a failure to “understand the evolutionary process.”

I don’t get it. What does evolutionary theory have to tell us about the “positive aspects” of genetic defects? More importantly, what does it tell us about the human capacity for altruism and compassion — the very things Dr. Boehm is advocating? The answer is: Nothing.

Dr. Boehm is a classic example of muddled thinking.

Darwin insisted that natural selection would “rigidly destroy” any variation — such as Down syndrome — that would hurt its possessor “in the struggle for life.” As much as we love kids with Down syndrome, it’s impossible to imagine how Down syndrome helps people in “the struggle for life.” Quite the contrary: it’s a variation that, if Darwin were right, should have been “rigidly destroyed” a long time ago.

And clearly evolutionary theory can’t explain the compassion and love that parents shower on their Down syndrome children. If evolutionary theory is right, then the time, resources and energy it takes to raise a child with special needs could be put to better uses: such as raising children who are more likely to strengthen the species.

The late philosopher David Stove, who was an atheist, called Darwinian explanations for altruism and compassion “confused” and a “slander” against man. They miss the obvious fact that man “is sharply distinguished from all other animals by being in fact hopelessly addicted to altruism.”

The “addiction” that Stove talked about is not the product of evolution. It is the product of being made in the image of God.

________

Copyright (c) 2007 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

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[Original illustration at this number was deleted for being inaccurate.]

The late Dr. Donald Barnhouse told, how once he was conducting a week of services in a large church. The pastor of that church was on the "hot seat." His wife was about to have their first child. This was the source of great anxiety for the pastor, but it was a source of real humor for Dr. Barnhouse, and he joked about it throughout the week. On the last night, when he went to the podium, Dr. Barnhouse waited and waited for the pastor to introduce him.

But the pastor didn't come. So smiling, and in a knowing fashion, Dr. Barnhouse got up, introduced himself, and conducted the service. Toward the end of that service, Dr. Barnhouse noticed the pastor as he slipped in at the back of the sanctuary, and made his way silently to the podium. When the pastor took his seat, Dr. Barnhouse turned and smiled at him in a knowing fashion. All the congregation joined him in smiling.

At the end of the service Dr. Barnhouse asked the young pastor, "Everything all right?" No one had noticed the pastor's expression. "Could I see you in my study, Sir?" the pastor asked Dr. Barnhouse. "Certainly," Dr. Barnhouse said. So they made their way to the pastor's study. Then the pastor blurted out, "Dr. Barnhouse, our child is a MONGOLOID(*). I haven't told my wife, and I don't know what I'm going to tell her."

"My friend, this is OF THE LORD," Dr. Barnhouse said. And he turned to this passage, the most overlooked passage in all the Old Testament. The fourth chapter of Exodus, and he read aloud: "And the Lord said unto him, who hath made man's mouth or who maketh the dumb or deaf or the seeing or the blind, hath not I -- the Lord?" "Let me see that," the pastor said. He studied it very quietly. As he studied it, Dr. Barnhouse said, "My friend, you know in the promise in Romans 8, that all things, INCLUDING THIS MONGOLOID CHILD, work together for good to those that love the Lord."

The pastor closed the Bible. He left the study and he went straight to a telephone to call the hospital room of his wife. As he talked to her, she said, "Cap, I want to see my baby. I've asked, and they won't let me. Is anything wrong with my baby?" "WHO MAKETH THE DUMB, DUMB AND THE BLIND, BLIND AND THE DEAF, DEAF, IS IT NOT I, THE LORD?" "My precious darling," the pastor said, "the Lord has blessed us with a mongoloid child."

The young wife and mother cried, long, and hard. Then she said, "Where did you get THAT?" "From God's own Word." "Read it to me." So he read it to her. Meanwhile on the switchboard, there was an operator, not unlike so many switchboard operators in little towns that hated to convert to the dial system. Now that hospital operator could barely believe what she heard. But when she absorbed it, it made "the rounds" of the entire hospital. She told everyone she knew.

The following Sunday the pastor was back in his pulpit. In the congregation, UNKNOWN TO HIM, was the TELEPHONE OPERATOR, AND 70 NURSES from that hospital. At the conclusion of that service, as he always did, the pastor stood down front and he said, "If you've never met Jesus Christ, I want to extend to you the invitation, to come down to the altar and to receive Him as your PERSONAL LORD and SAVIOR." The pastor barely glanced up. Do you know that 30 NURSES from the hospital came to the altar that day! Can you imagine ONE MONGOLOID CHILD being patently RESPONSIBLE for GIVING ETERNAL LIFE TO 30 NURSES!

(*) Mongoloid is now considered an offensive term; Down syndrome is much preferred

The life of Fanny Crosby –- our sweet singer in the night -- shows us how faith, courage, and cheerfulness can win over terrible handicaps. Her sight was completely destroyed when she was only six weeks old because someone placed a wrong poultice on her eyes. Fanny, then, never saw the beauties of the world about her. This affliction, however, only served to open a new world about her in which she saw Christ as her ever-present Helper and Friend.

Refusing to be pitied, she lived a most happy and useful life, making other lives better by her sweet songs. Believing that this was the work to which God had ordained her and for which He had providentially permitted the loss of her natural vision, she entered upon her lifework with such wholehearted zeal that she produced and published more than 8,000 gospel hymns and songs. She became America’s best-loved gospel-song writer.

Throughout her songs runs a note of certainty and assurance which stems from faith in God and His Word. Often the lines came to her as fast as they could be dictated. The words for “Blessed Assurance” were written as a result of a visit that Mrs. Joseph F. Knapp paid to her. Mrs. Knapp wrote the tune, took it to her friend, and after playing it asked, “Fanny, what does that tune say to you?”

Fanny thought for a few moments and then replied: “Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.”

Another hymn was on its way to bless humanity. This one, Ira Sankey declared, was one of the most popular and useful of gospel hymns in the great Moody-Sankey revivals. In her declining years “Aunt Fanny” loved to recite these words:

This is my story, this is my song,

Praising my Saviour all the day long.

Though sightless, Fanny Crosby had, nevertheless, experienced the “beatific vision” and was able to translate her faith and assurance into lines that have enriched the world.

________

SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Copyright (c) June 1984, Pacific Press

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[Original illustration at this number was added to HolwickID #21059]

What would you do if you had to choose between your life and your baby’s life?

I never really thought I would have to choose. Since college it was always just a hypothetical question to me. Up to that point in my life, I had even heard most pro-life supporters affirm that abortion is always wrong -- with the exception of the mother’s life being in jeopardy. That exception had always troubled me. In college I decided that if I ever had to choose, I’d go with the baby and trust God. I never thought I’d actually have to make that choice.

Fast forward four years and 25 weeks. The dark ultrasound room was quiet. My ultra-normal, 25-week pregnancy was falling to pieces before my eyes. When the doctor finally broke the silence, “Katie, we’re concerned about your baby,” my heart was crushed. My doctor explained that our sweet daughter’s body was badly deformed. Our daughter had no left arm. She had no right leg. Her left leg was badly clubbed and her right arm seemed atrophied. The doctor feared Eve’s brain and organs could not sustain her outside the womb.

Instantly, my heart encountered shock, terror and sorrow like I have never known. They allowed my husband and me to have a moment alone to absorb the news before meeting privately with our doctor to discuss our options.

My heart sunk further as I listened to the doctor’s “medical opinion.” She never said the word “abortion,” but the suggestion had been made perfectly clear. It was posed with such delicate phrases: “My concern is to keep Katie as safe as possible. ... We need to think about what a delivery could mean for Katie.” I could hardly listen; I was consumed with begging God to spare my daughter. Was my doctor really telling me my daughter wasn’t worth saving? As soon as I realized her suggestion, I remembered that I had made this choice long ago.

Suddenly, amidst my sorrow, I knew that God had been preparing me for this moment, in this doctor’s office, for years. I suddenly found myself thankful as I unhesitatingly responded: “I want to save my daughter.”

My choice didn’t make the coming days easier. I had limitless questions of every possible “why” and “how.” I wasn’t mad at God, but I was frustrated. I felt like David when he cried out to God, begging Him to come in and make sense of the mess. I experienced pain that is too deep for words. I know I am not the first, or unfortunately, the last woman to experience sorrow of this nature. It comes in all different shapes and sizes, but ultimately has the same root issue -- the effects of sin had corrupted something that was supposed to be beautiful.

I received a lot of different advice and words of wisdom from many women during those days -- some good advice, some not so good. As I went through my own struggles, I couldn’t help but realize that there were certain truths that applied not only to me, but to every woman who has experienced the pain of something beautiful being affected by a fallen world:

• I learned that I needed to allow grief. Too often, when Christian women hear of another’s difficult challenges, they tend to sugarcoat the situation and essentially discourage grieving. It’s well meaning, but unbiblical (Romans 12:15). Cry out to God, not to undermine or question His Sovereignty, but in order to understand His will. It’s okay to be honest if you don’t understand what He’s doing. There were moments during my pregnancy when I was too weak to read Scripture or even pray. The only things I had to offer my Savior were my tears (Romans 8:26). Those moments alone with the Lord are still some of the most intimate moments I’ve ever experienced. I needed to be able to grieve through my pain to reach a deeper level of intimacy with the Lord. That intimacy then enabled me to be able to trust Him regardless of the storm (Psalm 34:18).

• I learned to accept that while sin may cause evil, nothing my baby did was sinful. Neither the man of John 9 nor his parents had caused his blindness, although he was blind as a consequence of the Fall of Adam and Eve. This difference is so crucial! No one grieves the effects of sin for their children more than God the Father. Yet He worked through the Fall to transform us into His daughters and heirs of the promise (Romans 8:17). For me, that means I can weep guilt-free with my daughter when she cries because of her differences. It means I can confidently teach her that God is powerful enough to take any effect of the Fall and display His glorious work through it (John 9:3).

• I learned the importance of depending entirely on God’s strength. Shortly after I delivered my daughter, I received a sweet note from a wise woman. She told me she would be praying for me as I discovered God’s strength for my journey. I simply couldn’t phrase it any better. Throughout the pregnancy my husband read Psalm 91 out loud to me. I started to visualize myself as a wounded and weak soldier, too tired to go on and ready for death but suddenly finding myself completely covered under God’s impenetrable shelter. Nothing about me had changed; I was still weak and ready to die. The only thing that had changed was that Someone was protecting me from the continual onslaught. I wasn’t being strong at all; I knew that for sure. Instead, I was learning to discover just how powerful God’s strength is. When I realized how limited my strength was, I was able to fully learn what it means to hide in the cleft of the rock.

There’s no way I could have known in college the emotional and spiritual battle that choosing life would entail. But I’m incredibly thankful that God is sovereign and helped strengthen me for the challenge, years before I knew I needed it.

We had a difficult pregnancy that entailed bi-weekly ultrasounds, lots of blood work, prayers and tears. After 37 weeks, our beautiful, healthy daughter was born. She is still missing two limbs, but her arm isn’t atrophied at all. The children’s hospital has been correcting her foot since she was four weeks old, and she just got her first prosthetic leg! She’s also unbelievably cute and smart with eyes as blue as the ocean.

I know we still have trials ahead of us. Eventually she will realize she’s different and will weep because of it. My prayer is that she will persevere because of the same truths I have come to embrace. Our fallen world hurts, but God is more powerful and is a shelter like no other.

*

[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #12189]

The year was 1963.

That's when I was born ... to "perfectly normal" parents at a "perfectly normal" Cleveland hospital.

I would like to say that I was a "perfectly normal," healthy baby, ready to take on the world. But instead, I was born with multiple deformities. My eyes were almost on the sides of my head, and I only had holes where my nose was supposed to be. I had a club foot and was missing all but one toe, if it could be called that. Also, three of my fingers were missing on my right hand. A cleft palate had an opening in my top lip and extended all the way to the right eye. Unfortunately, even one leg was shorter than the other.

The hospital staff, I was told, thought I had too many problems to survive. The doctors, in fact, refused to show me to my parents and, incredulously, even gave my parents forms to sign to "give me up for science."

I can only thank God that my parents had other plans for my life. I belonged to them and to God. They intended to love and accept me just as I was, despite acknowledging that it would be a long, hard road ahead.

At the age of seven months, I began to undergo a very long series of operations. However, the first seven were deemed failures. The surgeons, it seemed, were trying to do too much at once. I, on the other hand, was like a puzzle that needed to be "put together" one piece at a time.

While successive surgeries were a little more successful, my appearance was still far from normal. In fact, very few people knew that I had already had sixteen operations by the time I was ready for third grade.

When I began kindergarten, I was placed in a special-education classroom because my appearance and imperfect speech were not accepted. Aside from being labeled a "special-ed" kid, I endured constant ridicule from other students who called me "stupid," "ugly" and "retarded" because of my looks. I also walked with a limp and had to wear special shoes and braces on my legs. I spent almost every school holiday in the hospital having operations and also missed a lot of school. I wondered if I would ever get out of special classes. My desire to become a "normal" child prompted my parents to pursue tests that would place me back in regular education classrooms. My parents and I worked very hard that summer to get ready for the big test. Finally, I was tested.

I'll never forget the day I waited outside the principal's office while my parents received my test results. The brown door between them and me seemed to loom bigger and bigger as time went by. Time passed in slow motion. I longed to put my ear to the door to hear what was being said.

After an hour passed, my mother finally emerged with a tear streaming down her cheek. I thought, 'Oh, no, another year in special-ed.' But much to my relief, the principal put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Welcome to 3B, young man!" My mom gave me a big hug.

Another milestone in fourth grade was the "miracle" that my parents and I had longed for. I was selected to undergo a very experimental surgery that would resculpt my entire face with bone grafts. The surgery was life-threatening and lasted ten hours. I survived this operation, my eighteenth, which really changed my life. At last, my nose had a shape, my lip was "fixed" and my eyes were very close to being in their normal position.

While I now faced a new chapter in my life from a physical perspective, I hadn't seen the end of my trials.

Within the next few years, my mother developed cancer and died, but not before instilling in me a sense of worth and the determination never to give up.

When other kids called me names, she had prompted, "Don't let those names bother you. Feel sorry for those kids who were not brought up right."

In addition, my parents taught me to be thankful for my blessings, pointing out that other people might have even greater challenges.

Their words eventually impacted my life when I did see people with greater challenges - in hospitals and whenever I did volunteer work with children who were mentally challenged.

As a teenager, I came to realize that my purpose in life was to help others become successful with whatever gifts they were blessed with, despite the things that society might point out as handicaps or shortcomings. In fact, my father advised, "Mike, you would make a great special-ed teacher." I knew what it was like to be a special-ed child.

However, I simply wasn't ready to make teaching my career choice at that point. Instead, I earned a degree in business and went on to become a very successful salesman, spending seven years in retail management. Then, I went on to become a very successful bank employee, spending five years as a loan officer. Still, something in my life was missing.

Despite the fact that I had met and married a special-ed teacher, it took me twelve years to realize that was my calling also and that my dad had been right.

Continuing my college education, pursuing a master's degree in education, I now teach in the same school district as my wife.

My classroom is a kaleidoscope of children with special needs - emotional, physical and mental. My newest career choice is my most challenging yet. I love to see my students' smiling faces when they learn something new, when a few words are spoken and when an award is won in the Special Olympics.

I've now gone through twenty-nine surgeries. While many have brought a lot of pain to my life, the fact that I have survived them all only seems to reiterate to me that God has a purpose for my life, as well as for every other life. I see my purpose being fulfilled one child at a time.

I may not have been a "perfectly normal" healthy baby, but I am ready to take on the world - thanks to God and to people like my mom. The motto she gave me will always be the motto I use in my own classroom: Never give up.

______________________

Michael Biasini (c) 1998, from A 6th Bowl of Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen.

*

When Joni Eareckson, an attractive teenager, stepped into a boat on Chesapeake Bay, she had her whole life ahead of her. She dreamed the dreams of most healthy young women -- marriage, home, children, and career. One mistake, however, one unplanned dive into shallow water, broke her neck. Since that moment, Joni's body has been helpless. She knows she will never leave her wheelchair.

Those who embrace a utilitarian worldview might consider Joni Eareckson worthless, a drain on society. "What can a person accomplish for the good of society when she can't walk or feed herself or even control her bodily functions?" they might ask.

I reflected on Joni's life recently when I attended a White House meeting with President Bush who spoke so eloquently about the need for a total ban on human cloning. As he spoke in the terms of a moral theologian about the dignity and sanctity of life, in the first row, just below the podium, directly in line with the president, sat Joni in her wheelchair. She is a powerful counterpoint in the cloning debate to Christopher Reeve, the wheelchair-bound defender of destructive embryonic stem cell research he believes will allow him to walk again.

Joni has known much suffering in her lifetime, and she might have despaired. But she has never exhibited self-pity. She has joyfully pursued God's purpose for her life in ministry and advocacy on behalf of the handicapped and in these vitally important debates on bioethics.

Several times during his talk, I saw President Bush look directly at Joni. At the end of his speech, the president surprised everyone. Stepping from the podium, he put his arms around Joni and embraced her and kissed her. It was a moving moment. Surely, I thought, this was the moment and the issue for which Joni had been born. There was a purpose for all her suffering.

With us in the White House that day also was Nigel Cameron, Dean of the Wilberforce Forum and Director of our Council for Biotechnology Policy. I met Nigel more than fifteen years ago when he was a young scholar in Edinburgh. At the time Nigel told me that abortion was only Bioethics 101 and that we would soon face much greater challenges in euthanasia, cloning, and germline intervention. I'm not sure I believed him, and probably many others didn't either. It must have, from time to time, been discouraging for him as he developed the bioethics arguments, and no one else really seemed to care. But recent developments have proved him absolutely right. He was the one alerting the Christian view, and Nigel Cameron is now one of the world's leading experts in bioethics, the most critical moral issue of the twenty-first century. He helped organize the coalition assembled in the White House that day.

As I think about Joni and Nigel and the roles they play in the bioethics debate, I'm reminded of the verse from the Old Testament book of Esther. The people need saving, and Esther was told that perhaps she was the queen "for such a time as this."

Sometimes people wonder why certain things happen to them. Why do we experience this trial or that setback? When I look at Joni and Nigel, I think back on my own days in prison -- it's obvious God uses suffering often to do His greatest work. He prepares us for just "such a time as this."

For more information:

"Bioethics and the Christian: An Interview with Joni Eareckson Tada"

You can read the text of President Bush's speech on the Wilberforce Forum website

Learn more about Joni Eareckson Tada's group, Joni and Friends, at its website .

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Copyright © 2002 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. 'BreakPoint with Chuck Colson' is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

*

As Amy Hagadorn rounded the corner across the hall from her classroom, she collided with a tall boy from the fifth grade running in the opposite direction.

"Watch it, Squirt," the boy yelled, as he dodged around the little third grader. Then, with a smirk on his face, the boy took hold of his right leg and mimicked the way Amy limped when she walked.

Amy closed her eyes for a moment.

'Ignore him,' she told herself as she headed for her classroom.

But at the end of the day, Amy was still thinking about the tall boy's mean teasing. It wasn't as if he were the only one. It seemed that ever since Amy started the third grade, someone teased her every single day. Kids teased her about her speech or her limping. Amy was tired of it. Sometimes, even in a classroom full of other students, the teasing made her feel all alone.

Back home at the dinner table that evening Amy was quiet. Her mother knew that things were not going well at school. That's why Patti Hagadorn was happy to have some exciting news to share with her daughter.

"There's a Christmas Wish Contest on the radio station," Amy's mom announced. "Write a letter to Santa and you might win a prize. I think someone at this table with blond curly hair should enter."

Amy giggled. The contest sounded like fun. She started thinking about what she wanted most for Christmas.

A smile took hold of Amy when the idea first came to her. Out came pencil and paper and Amy went to work on her letter. "Dear Santa Claus," she began.

While Amy worked away at her best printing, the rest of the family tried to guess what she might ask from Santa. Amy's sister, Jamie, and Amy's mom both thought a 3-foot Barbie Doll would top Amy's wish list. Amy's dad guessed a picture book. But Amy wasn't ready to reveal her secret Christmas wish just then. Here is Amy's letter to Santa, just as she wrote it that night:

Dear Santa Claus,

My name is Amy. I am 9 years old. I have a problem

at school. Can you help me, Santa? Kids laugh at me

because of the way I walk and run and talk. I have

cerebral palsy. I just want one day where no one laughs at

me or makes fun of me.

Love,

Amy

At radio station WJLT in Fort Wayne, Indiana, letters poured in for the Christmas Wish Contest. The workers had fun reading about all the different presents that boys and girls from across the city wanted for Christmas.

When Amy's letter arrived at the radio station, manager Lee Tobin read it carefully. He knew cerebral palsy was a muscle disorder that might confuse the schoolmates of Amy who didn't understand her disability. He thought it would be good for the people in Fort Wayne to hear about this special third grader and her unusual wish. Mr. Tobin called up the local newspaper.

The next day, a picture of Amy and her letter to Santa made the front page of the "News Sentinel." The story spread quickly. All across the country, newspapers and radio and television stations reported the story of the little girl in Fort Wayne, Indiana, who asked for such a simple, yet remarkable, Christmas gift - just one day without teasing.

Suddenly the postman was a regular at the Hagadorn house. Envelopes of all sizes addressed to Amy arrived daily from children and adults all across the nation. They came filled with holiday greetings and words of encouragement.

During that unforgettable Christmas season, over two thousand people from all over the world sent Amy letters of friendship and support. Amy and her family read every single one. Some of the writers had disabilities; some had been teased as children. Each writer had a special message for Amy. Through the cards and letters from strangers, Amy glimpsed a world full of people who truly cared about each other. She realized that no amount or form of teasing could ever make her feel lonely again.

Many people thanked Amy for being brave enough to speak up. Others encouraged her to ignore teasing and to carry her head high. Lynn, a sixth grader from Texas, sent this message:

"I would like to be your friend," she wrote, "and if you want to visit me, we could have fun. No one would make fun of us, cause, if they do, we will not even hear them."

Amy did get her wish of a special day without teasing at South Wayne Elementary School. Additionally, everyone at school got an added bonus. Teachers and students talked together about how bad teasing can make others feel.

That year, the Fort Wayne mayor officially proclaimed December 21st as Amy Jo Hagadorn Day throughout the city. The mayor explained that by daring to make such a simple wish, Amy taught a universal lesson.

"Everyone," said the mayor, "wants and deserves to be treated with respect, dignity and warmth."

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Alan D. Shultz (c) 1998, from Chicken Soup for the Kid's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Hansen and Irene Dunlap.

Eric Butterworth tells of a young soldier who lost his legs after stepping on a land mine while serving in Bosnia. When he awoke in the military hospital in Germany and found that he would never walk again, something died within him. He lay in his hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He refused to talk with anyone. He refused to cooperate with the doctors and nurses. All he wanted to do was to die.

One day a young man strolled into his room and sat down in the chair near his bed. Quietly he drew from his pocket a harmonica and began to play softly. The patient looked at him for a moment, then back at the ceiling. That was all for that day. The next day the harmonica player came again. For several days he continued to come and play quietly for the young soldier in the bed. One day he said, “Does my playing bother you?” The patient in the bed said, “No, I guess like it.” They talked for a while and each day their conversation went longer.

One day the harmonica player was in a jovial mood. He played a lively tune and began to do a tap dance. However the other soldier in the bed looked on, unimpressed. “Hey, why don't you smile once and let the world know you're alive?” the dancer said. The legless soldier just replied, “I might as well be dead as in the fix I'm in.” “Okay,” answered his happy friend, “so you're dead. But you're not as dead as the guy who was crucified two thousand years ago and He came out of it okay.” “Oh, that's easy for you to say,” the patient replied, “but if you were in my fix, you'd sing a different tune.”

With that the dancer stood up and said, “I know a two-thousand-year-old resurrection is pretty far in the dim past. So maybe an up-to-date example will help you believe it can be done.” And with that he pulled up the trouser legs of his pants and the young man in the bed looked and saw two artificial limbs. The tap-dancing fellow with the harmonica was not just some starry eyed Pollyanna. He himself had once lay where the young soldier lay. He, too, had faced the despair of a loss. He too had thought, “I can't go on.” But the resurrection of Jesus had turned his “can't” into a “can” and he was there to share it with the young soldier in the bed.

Many Hollywood films are frankly unfit for human consumption. But there are exceptions — films that treat important subjects and ideas in a way that a thinking Christian can affirm. Such a film opens tomorrow.

It's called RADIO. It tells the story of an unlikely friendship between a severely mentally retarded black man and a successful white small-town football coach — a friendship that transforms an entire community.

Our first glimpse of the title character Radio, played by Cuba Gooding, Jr., shows him wandering the streets of Anderson, South Carolina, being seen but never noticed. None of the people he passes knows anything about him, including his name or the nature of his disability.

This begins to change when coach Harold Jones, played by Ed Harris, catches some of his players playing a cruel prank on Radio. He not only puts an end to the prank and punishes his players, he also begins to wonder about this young man who watches his team practice every day.

Before long, he makes Radio a team manager. He gives him a place of honor along the sidelines during games. And after the football season ends, Radio is allowed to “attend” high school, where he makes the morning announcements and becomes a diligent hall monitor.

Jones's efforts to integrate Radio, whose real name is James Robert Kennedy, into the larger community, draws Radio out of his shell. His academic and social skills, although still very limited, improve noticeably.

Of course, not everybody likes the idea of a severely disabled man in such close proximity to their tidy lives. They look for an excuse to institutionalize Radio — even blame him for a disappointing football season.

In the climactic scene Coach Jones defends what he and others have done for Radio. But he doesn't stop there: He reminds them that while they have been teaching Radio, Radio has been teaching them as well.

Coach is referring to his goodness and innocence. Anybody who has spent time around people with severe developmental disabilities, as I have with my autistic grandson Max, knows exactly what he means. Their guilelessness and innocence shame us.

But there's something else that both the film's characters and the audience learn from RADIO. They learn the answer to the questions: “Who is my neighbor?” and “Who am I responsible for?”

At its heart, RADIO is a re-telling of the Good Samaritan story, an assessment, by the way, that Cuba Gooding agrees with. As with Jesus' interlocutor, our culture is looking for the narrowest possible answers to these questions — answers that set them free to go about their business without inconvenient pangs of conscience.

But the film, like the parable, doesn't let us off the hook. It reminds us that those we — especially certain bioethicists — might regard as disposable are our neighbors and the proper objects of our compassion. Casting them aside is a sin, not only against their God-given dignity, but ours as well.

This social dimension to the story may not have occurred to RADIO's creators, but it's there on the screen. That makes RADIO that rarest of movies: a well-made, well-told story that will leave people better off for having seen it.

FOR FURTHER READING:

• Learn more about RADIO at HollywoodJesus.com.

• Gene Sapakoff, “ 'Radio' gets two thumbs up from Radio,” The Post and Courier (Charleston, SC), 22 October 2003.

• Scott Keepfer, “Story of Hanna's Radio ready for big screen,” Greenville News, 18 October 2003.

• Betsy Pickle, “Actor gives star turn in Knoxville,” Knoxville News-Sentinel, 19 October 2003.

• “Blessed to Play 'Radio',” CBS, 22 October 2003.

• “Oscar-winner Cuba Gooding Jr. raises $80,000 for a children's charity,” CJAD, 20 October 2003.

• Brian Godawa, Hollywood Worldviews (InterVarsity, 2002).

• Joni and Friends exists to communicate the gospel and equip Christ-honoring churches worldwide to evangelize and disciple people affected by disability.

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Copyright (c) 2003 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

*

Like other athletes preparing for the New York City Marathon, Zoe Koplowitz knows the usual tips: Dress for the weather, pace yourself, start out slow. But slow for Koplowitz, who takes to the 26.2-mile course every year with two fuschia crutches that match her eye shadow, can mean a race that stretches well into the next day.

“Last year was a little better than usual,” said Koplowitz, 55. “I knocked it off in 28 hours.”

Like the 30,000 or so runners attempting the marathon this Sunday, Koplowitz goes as fast as she can. She was diagnosed 30 years ago with multiple sclerosis, the degenerative disease of the nervous system. She also has diabetes. She wears thigh braces because she suffers from a painful leg condition called illotibial band syndrome. She has carpal tunnel syndrome in her wrists from using crutches.

That hasn't stopped the motivational speaker from finishing 17 marathons, 15 of them in New York and all of them in last place.

“A cab driver told me something. It was a very nice analogy. I was kind of like the Yankees,” she said. “People have a need for me to win because they have a need to win themselves. And when I finish, they do, too.”

Marathon spokesman Richard Finn said, “We think it's great that she keeps coming back.”

Koplowitz' first marathon, in 1988 when she was 40, was her fastest: 19 hours, 57 minutes.

“I thought it would be 12 hours. I thought that I would just go and go and go until I got there,” the New Yorker said.

Her longest marathon was more than 33 hours, in 2000. The weather that year was humid and warm, conditions that generally exacerbate her MS.

Koplowitz begins her journey at the Verrazano Bridge starting line at 6 a.m., more than four hours before the other runners. She stops every mile to stretch, and tests her blood sugar every two hours. She doesn't take a break of longer than 15 or 20 minutes, except one stop at a restaurant during the last nine or 10 miles. She doesn't sleep.

The Guardian Angels, the volunteer civilian patrol, watch over Koplowitz for the last 10 miles. Restaurants and police precincts open their doors for her in the middle of the night.

For using her crutches - nicknamed Spot and Rover - a good part of her training is upper-body weight work. “I've got biceps that make grown men weep,” she says.

When she's not marathoning, she needs one crutch to walk.

Koplowitz is not the only disabled marathoner. The Achilles Track Club, which represents disabled runners, estimates that more than 1,000 members ran the marathon last year.

Her finish is not scored; the New York City Marathon stops recording finishers after eight hours.

She doesn't have an exact time goal. She always tells herself 24 hours, “but I realize I pushed very, very hard last year and I got 28.”

“I know that I won't be able to do this forever,” Koplowitz said. “Each year is very special to me.”

Our friends Keith and Mary Korstjens have been married for more than forty years. Shortly after their honeymoon, Mary was stricken with polio and became quadriplegic. The doctors informed her that she would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. It was a devastating development, but Keith never wavered in his commitment to Mary. For all these years he has bathed and dressed her, carried her to and from her bed, taken her to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair.

Obviously, Keith could have divorced Mary in 1957 and looked for a new and healthier wife, but he never even considered it. We admire this man not only for doing the right thing, but for continuing to love and cherish his wife. Though the problems faced by the rest of us may be less challenging than those encountered by the Korstjens, each of us will confront some kind of hardship in the years ahead. How will we respond?

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Source: Night Light: A Devotional for Couples, by James C. and Shirley Dobson

A recent issue of the WEEKLY STANDARD featured an article with the ominous title “Building a Better Baby.” The article reports that a new screening process, called FASTER, will allow doctors to test an unborn child for Down syndrome as early as ten to thirteen weeks. This would mean that the child's mother “could terminate her pregnancy before it showed,” so the article says — easier and more convenient for everyone.

At the same time, some doctors are saying that all pregnant women, not just those whose children are at risk of having birth defects, should routinely be offered potentially dangerous tests like amniocentesis. As the STANDARD points out, a recent British survey indicates that women are so worried about the possibility of having a genetically abnormal child that they're willing to risk the miscarriage that amniocentesis can cause. This tallies with the statistic that “about 90 percent of women who discover their baby has a chromosomal disorder abort it.” Ninety percent! If that figure isn't shocking, I don't know what is.

Clearly, there's been a major shift in the way our society thinks about the disabled — something to which I, as a grandfather of an autistic child, am acutely sensitive. Not that the doctors advocating the testing or the women choosing the abortions would put it that way — after all, it's not politically correct to discriminate against the disabled, not after they're born anyway. But they would probably say that, in these cases, they were doing the merciful thing by ending a life of suffering before it really began. By using such euphemisms, our culture has bought into the bizarre but seductive idea that the best way to eliminate certain kinds of illnesses is simply to eliminate the people who suffer from those illnesses.

We may reach a point, as the author argues, when all mothers of children with genetic abnormalities will be EXPECTED to abort them. Already some mothers are feeling the burden of this expectation. Some time ago, I reported on the case of a man whose wife reluctantly aborted after finding out something was wrong with their child — and after intense pressure from her doctors. When the woman got pregnant again, she didn't want her child tested at all, but she finally gave in “to doctors, friends, and a husband who couldn't bear not knowing.” But even the husband had to admit, “It seems to me a plausible fear that eventually these decisions will slip more and more from our hands ... “ We already know that many do, because insurance companies often refuse to cover a costly childhood disability that has been detected in utero. Each abortion of a disabled child, besides being a tragedy in itself, brings us one step closer to just this sort of financially coerced eugenics.

It's one thing to want a healthy child. But it's another thing to refuse to let an unhealthy child to see the light of day. When we manipulate life in this way and diminish the humanity of the unborn, we become less human ourselves because we end up viewing life — all life, ours included — as a commodity that can be rejected by quality control.

Christians need to take the lead in educating people that children are gifts, as my autistic grandson most surely is. By going down the path we're currently on, we might one day get rid of genetic diseases, but only at the cost of our own humanity.

FOR FURTHER READING AND INFORMATION:

• Agnes R. Howard, “Building a Better Baby,” Weekly Standard, 5 April 2004. (Subscription required, or call 1-877-322-5527 for a copy.)

• BreakPoint Commentary No. 030528, “Something to Celebrate: Faith That Goes beyond Happy Endings.”

• Bill Keller, “Charlie's Ghost,” New York Times, 29 June 2002. Reprinted by Michigan State University.

• William Saletan, “Face the Fetus,” Slate.com, 29 March 2004.

• S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (HarperSanFrancisco, 2001).

• Sign up for the free “Biotech Policy Update” e-newsletter.

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Copyright (c) 2004 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

*

Seven-year-old Chris Krebs was born with cerebral palsy and was profoundly retarded. One day he and his father, Greg, sat in a hospital lounge waiting for Mrs. Krebs, who worked at the hospital. Another man, shabbily dressed and emanating a peculiar aroma, was also waiting there. He looked like a bum or derelict. Greg went to the nurses' station and asked how much longer his wife would be. When he returned, he saw Chris sitting by the man. The man was sobbing, and Greg wondered what Chris had done to disturb him.

“I'm sorry if my son offended you,” Greg said.

The man replied, “Offended me? Your son is the only person who has hugged me in the last twenty years!”

Greg later said, “I realized at that moment Chris had a more Christ-like love for this man than I did.”

Although disrespect for the disabled or less fortunate is characteristic of our culture, we know there is no “junk” in God's value system. He loves every one of us the same. He sees our potential, and He uses each person to accomplish some part of His purpose. As His children, were called to look at everyone through the lens of His perfect love.

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Source: Night Light: A Devotional for Couples, By Dobson, James C.; Dobson, Shirley Published by Multnomah Pub (September 1, 2000)

*

While the world's attention is focused on saying farewell to John Paul II, a great man who died peacefully last weekend, the world is finding no peace in what it has done to Terri Schiavo. The controversy over the decision of judges to starve her to death is not going away anytime soon — and that's a good thing.

Many commentators are suggesting that the legal fiasco surrounding Terri was foisted on us by Christian zealots. This view is totally untrue.

In fact, the most compelling argument for saving Terri was made, not by a Christian, but by Harriet McBryde Johnson, a disabled lawyer and self-professed atheist.

First, she says, Terri Schiavo was not terminally ill. This case was not about “end-of-life” decision-making; it was about intentionally killing a disabled woman by denying her food and water.

Second, Terri was not on life support. She was simply being fed through a tube. Is this method of feeding fundamentally different from feeding someone with a spoon? As Johnson puts it, “No matter how you answer that, it has nothing to do with whether a person should live or die.”

Third, Terri's case is not about a patient's right to refuse medical treatment — not, that is, unless we call eating and drinking “treatment.” If we do, then all of us, every time we eat a meal, are acting to artificially extend our lives.

Fourth, Terri was incapable of making a decision to refuse treatment — and had never made one before. Should someone else be allowed to make decisions for her regarding the simple act of eating and drinking?

Fifth, advocates of killing Terri claim that she was unaware of her situation and thus incapable of suffering. If that's true, Johnson argues, then her death cannot be justified as “relieving suffering.”

Sixth, Terri left no living will, so her death cannot be justified on the grounds that it's “what Terri would have wanted.”

Seventh, Terri, like all disabled people, is entitled to statutory protection under the Americans with Disabilities Act. She had the right not to be treated differently because of her disability. For the sake of consistency, would we now have to deny or remove feeding tubes from everyone?

Some good can come out of Terri's tragedy. I suspect that people will go rushing to get living wills in order not to be put in Terri's position. I recommend the one found on the National Right to Life Committee's website. Terri's murder might also inspire federal legislation to protect the rights of future Terri Schiavo's — to ensure that lives are not snuffed out because they are inconvenient, because the spouse wants to inherit money, or for any other arbitrary reason. Congress should pass a Terri Schiavo law that would guarantee that the rights of the disabled, who, as Senator Tom Harkin (D-Iowa) put it, “live in the shadows,” would be protected.

Life is precious; it is made in God's image. The modern utilitarian notion that someone's worth should be judged by what he or she can contribute to society is an abomination.

Thank you, Terri, for awakening us to the duty before us: defending human dignity and the sanctity of all human life.

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Copyright (c) 2005 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

*

Bill's dad and mother were Methodist missionaries in Chile many years ago. They were poor. In fact, they were very poor. Sometimes their salary for a year was not more than four hundred dollars. Every penny really counted!

When Bill was about 3 he had typhoid fever, which left his eyes weak and nearsighted. When he was 5 he caught his left hand in a pulley in some farm machinery, leaving his hand crippled and almost useless.

Weak eyes, crippled and useless hand. No money. A less than adequate education; he didn't even attend a regular school until he was 12! What chances did Bill have of doing something for the Lord's work?

You might say, “None!” But Bill wouldn't have agreed. As he grew older he had good health and he could think. Best of all, he understood the value of learning, and knew that knowledge is power if used wisely. So he couldn't play ball like the other fellows? Well, he could still read despite his not-so-good eyes. When most boys his age were poring over adventure stories, Bill was reading history and Bible books. By the time he was 11 he knew what he wanted to be-a Bible archeologist! A person in such work learns about the life and habits of people who lived in ancient times. Bill's ambition meant long years of study in Bible lands-far from Chile-but he was determined, and he set about to realize his goal.

He took one step at a time and let the Lord lead. First, he studied hard in school, particularly subjects such as history, geography, mathematics, and Latin. A Danish sailor who lived with his family for a while taught him German. When college time came, he worked all his way and taught himself two ancient languages, Hebrew and Assyrian (cuneiform). Gradually he edged toward his goal.

Dr. William F. Albright-Bill in our story-became one of the greatest archeologists and probably one of the most intelligent men in modern times. When he died at the age of 80 he had received many honors.

Knowledge is power if used wisely. Is this part of your growth experience?

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Source: Climbing Jacob's Ladder, by Jeanne Larson & Ruth McLin, Copyright 1979 by Review and Herald Publishing Association

*

Many people know of William Carey, the "father of modern missions." But few people have heard of his sister. She was a quadriplegic and had to be carried from bed to couch. For 50 years she lay in bed and prayed for William Carey. She wrote him encouraging letters -- with a pencil between her teeth. Her ministry was perhaps more important because she was a silent partner. Certainly William Carey realized God’s blessing was as much a result of his sister’s commitment to pray for his ministry as was his dedication to serve God.

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Dan Harrison, A Living Legacy; Preaching Now, http://www.preaching.com

In 1967, the New Jersey Supreme Court rejected a “wrongful birth” claim and framed its decision in an eloquent affirmation of human dignity:

“The right to life is inalienable in our society. A court cannot say what defects should prevent an embryo from being allowed life such that the denial at the opportunity to terminate the existence of a defective child in embryo can support a cause of action ... A child need not be perfect to have a worthwhile life .... The sanctity of the single human life is the decisive factor in this issue in tort. Eugenic considerations are not controlling. We are not talking here about the breeding of prize cattle. It may have been easier for the mother and less expensive for the father to have terminated the life of their child while he was an embryo, but these alleged detriments cannot stand against the preciousness of the single human life to support a remedy in tort.”

In other words, the New Jersey Court affirmed that every single human life, whatever its circumstances or genetic condition, is worthy of existence, and that existence is to be prized over nonexistence as a matter of principle.

Just six years later, the U. S. Supreme Court would hand down the infamous ROE V. WADE decision, legalizing abortion. With that sweeping decision, everything changed. As attorney Jay Webber explains, “The ROE opinion completely reshaped legal views of the unborn, however, and soon thereafter the New Jersey Supremes were singing a different tune. In 1979, that court became the first to recognize the torts of wrongful birth. In light of ROE, the Court said that eugenic considerations in fact did control decisions regarding the birth of a child.”

Keep all that in mind when you look at Sunday's edition of THE NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE. In this issue, writer Elizabeth Weil addresses the issue of “wrongful birth” claims and the ethical confusion into which these issues are now debated. Beyond this, she acknowledges that this issue points, not only to confusion, but to significant danger.

She should know. As she recounts in her essay, Weil and her husband decided roughly two years ago to abort an unborn child when she discovered at 23 weeks of gestation that “our unborn son had contracted cytyomegalovirius [sic].” That disease, if contracted by the mother for the first time while she is pregnant and then passed along to her fetus can lead to severe birth defects. “Most likely our child would be deaf, blind and have serious mental retardation -- a doctor friend told me that this prognosis could make a child with Down look like a walk in the park -- but no one could tell us for sure what our unborn son's health would be like. What is more, no good studies existed because most of the women in the samples terminated before birth.” So what did Weil and her husband decide to do? “We did what seemed right at the time: we aborted.”

In her lengthy essay, Weil reviews many of the current issues related to wrongful birth and wrongful life claims. At the center of her essay is the Branca family and little A. J. Branca, born June 11, 1999. As Weil explains, Donna Branca was 31 when she became pregnant with A. J. Therefore, many of the prenatal tests that are customarily done on older mothers were not performed on Branca and her baby. Even after she experienced bleeding and other complications of her pregnancy, her doctors did not offer her tests in order to determine whether the baby might be carrying a genetic disease. “Looking back now, of course, it's easy to say I should have asked more questions or maybe been a little more concerned,” Branca told Weil.

Just before A. J. was born, however, further complications led to a visit to another medical facility, where an amniocentesis test indicated that A. J. had a gene duplication and a gene deletion on his fourth chromosome. After A. J.'s birth, it was determined that he had Wolf-Hirschhorn syndrome, which often includes mental retardation, an inability to speak, physical disfigurement, as well as seizures and other problems.

“What happened next -- the years in which the Brancas came to love A. J. deeply and also to file a multimillion-dollar lawsuit claiming that Donna Branca's obstetrician's poor care deprived her of the right to abort him -- sheds an uncomfortable light on contemporary expectations about childbearing and on how much control we believe we should have over the babies we give birth to.” An uncomfortable light indeed.

Weil describes and defines many of the most sensitive issues with skill and insight. “The technology of prenatal care has been shifting rapidly,” she reminds readers. “Our ethical responses to the information provided has been shifting as well. As in many other realms, from marriage and its definition to end-of-life issues, those ethics and standards are being hashed out in the courts, in one lawsuit after another. And what those cases are exposing is the relatively new belief that we should have a right to choose which babies come into the world.”

Weil's candor is refreshing and frightening. She is certainly right in pointing to “the relatively new belief” that human beings should have a right to choose which lives are worth living and, armed with prenatal tests and diagnoses, which babies will be allowed to be born.

Thus, we now find ourselves living in the very Brave New World we have been fearing for decades -- a world in which human life is often reduced to the cold calculus of genetic testing and to the murderous subjectivity of those who will decide which lives are worth living.

The “new belief” that Weil describes is, she argues, built upon two related assumptions, both of fairly recent vintage. “The first is the assumption that if we choose to take advantage of contemporary technology, major flaws in our fetus's health will be detected before birth. The second assumption, more controversial, is that we will be able to do something -- namely, end the pregnancy -- if those flaws suggest a parenting project we would rather not undertake.”

As recent reports have made clear, many are deciding not to take on the “parenting project” Weil describes. The dramatic decrease in the number of babies born with Down syndrome is but one sign of the fact that prenatal genetic testing is leading to the termination of an untold number of pregnancies -- but certainly numbering in many thousands.

This is surely only a hint of things to come, for the number and comprehensiveness of new genetic tests increases each year. As Weil reports, the number of prenatal genetic tests jumped from 100 to 1,000 just between 1993 and 2003. Yet, even as the number of these tests has increased exponentially, there are still no ethical guidelines about how such information should be used. The questions are not matters of mere abstract ethical theory.

“Should it be OK to terminate a deaf child? What about a blind one? How mentally retarded is too mentally retarded? What if the child will develop a serious disease, like Huntington's later in life? According to one reproductive legal scholar, Susan Crockin in Newton, Massachusetts, 'As reproductive genetics opens up new possibilities, we should expect to see more of these cases, and we should expect to see more novel issues.'“

Of course, when dealing with the issue of genetic testing on embryos or prenatal patients, there are no medical means of “curing” the problem. The only option, and the very option implied in the tests themselves, is killing the fetus.

“At this moment, we are fairly adept at finding chromosomal flaws and horribly inept at fixing them,” Weil acknowledges. “There is no chemical or surgical remedy if you find your child-to-be has cystic fibrosis, fragile X, Down syndrome, Tay-Sachs, and anencephaly -- the list goes on and on.” Weil cites professor Leon Kass, former chairman of President Bush's Council on Bioethics, to the effect that “the only way to cure the illness is to prevent the patient.”

The courts have responded to these questions with even more confusion. About half of all states allow some form of wrongful-birth lawsuits, but few allow wrongful life suits. The reason for this is not completely clear, but the courts have been especially wary to enter into the question of whether a living person should be able to claim that non-existence is preferable to existence. Yet, some of these same courts have been willing to allow parents to argue that they were denied a right to terminate their pregnancy, had they known of the genetic disease or abnormality with which their child would be afflicted. In her explanation of the complexities, Weil borrows the language of the New Jersey Court's 1967 decision. “We may not want to give birth to disabled children,” she acknowledges, “but at the same time we do not want to see ourselves as reproducing in a way that calls to mind prize cattle.”

Some medical ethicists see this as a direct threat to human dignity. Adrienne Asch, a professor at Yeshiva University in New York, argues that parents “want to think that they are open to loving whomever comes into their families, and they don't want to think that they aren't.” Nevertheless, Asch suggests that many parents really aren't willing to accept whatever child may result from a pregnancy. She argues that the very existence and medical context of these prenatal tests comes with the “automatic assumption” that, should the testing reveal a disability, the pregnancy should be terminated. As she curtly explains, prenatal testing “is not a medical procedure to promote the health of the fetus. It is a procedure to give prospective parents information to decide whether or not to eliminate a possible future life.”

David Wasserman, a bioethicist at the University of Maryland, agrees with Asch, arguing that these prenatal tests legitimate fears of persons with impairments.

Laurie Zoloth rejects that argument. Director of the Center for Bioethics, Science and Society at Northwestern University, Zoloth seems to argue that these tests should simply be welcomed as a way of producing fewer persons with genetic abnormalities. “When people worry about curing too many things, I'm always glad that bioethics wasn't around when people were thinking about infectious diseases or polio or yellow fever,” she retorts. Of course, this argument is both dishonest and disingenuous. Those infectious diseases were killing and afflicting living persons, and the scientists who were seeking to cure those diseases were attempting to save lives, not to terminate lives considered to be unworthy of living. Weil commendably describes the struggle of the Branca family to love A. J. and take care of his needs. They did sue the doctors involved in her pregnancy, and won an undisclosed multimillion dollar settlement. That settlement allows A. J. to receive the very best medical care, but it was won on the basis of an argument that the Brancas would have aborted A. J. had they known about his afflictions in time. There can be no doubt that they love him dearly, and give themselves sacrificially to his care. But what are we to make of the argument that they would have aborted the pregnancy, had they been armed with sufficient information at just the right time?

Weil's argument also comes with other fascinating information. For one thing, she cites studies indicating that many of the tests intended to reveal genetic abnormalities are themselves suspect. In one major study, embryos were seen to be healthier as development proceeded. In other words, some embryos claimed to be defective turned out not to be as defective as thought -- and perhaps not defective at all.

As with so many other contentious issues, the questions of wrongful birth and wrongful life are now being adjudicated in the courts, where arguments about parental rights are pitting the interests of parents over against the interests of their unborn children.

“An unintended and particularly disconcerting consequence of all these new reproductive lawsuits is that they may bias the medical establishment toward termination, and some argue that such a bias already exists,” Weil acknowledges. The new field of “genetic counseling” adds yet another dimension of complication to the issue, with many genetic counselors evidently steering patients toward “starting again with a clean slate.”

Elizabeth Weil's essay is itself an important marker in the nation's debate over human dignity. Are all lives worth living? Elizabeth Weil and her husband decided to abort their unborn child, rather than to face the genetic complications that child was diagnosed as carrying. She expresses continuing confidence that they made the right decision. Still, the fact that she is the author of this essay indicates that questions remain, reaching even to the deepest levels of her own moral decision-making.

When any life is deemed to be unworthy of living, every single human life is cheapened, discounted, and threatened. We are living in an age increasingly without moral rules -- an age in which choices about life and death are now commonly made with specific reference to what kind of child we would welcome, and what quality of life we will accept and protect. The Christian affirmation must be that every single life is worthy of living -- EVERY life is worthy of our protection, our care, and our welcome. No one should ever discount the difficulties of dealing with children who are born with severe genetic abnormalities or serious diseases. Most of us, within our extended families or circle of friends, are intimately familiar with just how excruciating many of these situations can be. Nevertheless, these are the very same issues we will all face in terms of issues at the end of life, and at many points between birth and death.

The eugenic temptation is, in this modern age of advanced medical technologies, always too close at hand. If we do not learn to resist it, human dignity will soon rest in the dustbin.

*

Ogden High School’s wrestling team showed up for a wrestling meet at Humboldt High School. The home coach greeted them with the news that one of his wrestlers had Down’s syndrome. “He has no skill but loves to compete. You can pin him in seconds. He knows he’ll lose; he just wants to roll around on the mat for a little bit. Would anyone on your team be willing to wrestle with him?”

First, there was silence. Then a lone voice on the Ogden team replied, “I’ll do it,” and wrestler Lane Brueland stepped forward to grapple with the boy named Brent.

The gesture alone was commendable, but what Brueland did next was exemplary. Instead of doing what the Humboldt coach requested, Brueland wrestled with the boy for the full six minutes. Not only that, he let the youngster score enough points to win the match.

When Brent’s hand was raised and he looked up in wonder and said, “I won?” There wasn’t a dry eye in the gym. Both boys got a standing ovation.

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Copyright 2007 Josephson Institute of Ethics; reprinted with permission. Michael Josephson, one of the nation’s leading ethicists, is the founder of the Josephson Institute of Ethics and the premier youth character education program, CHARACTER COUNTS! For further information visit http://www.charactercounts.org

*

[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of #21013]

England’s prestigious and influential Nuffield Council on Bioethics has recommended that babies born before twenty-two weeks be given no special treatment to save their lives. Claiming to have the “best interests” of these babies at heart, the Council stated — and read this carefully: “We view [the baby’s] interests in living or dying, or in avoiding an ‘intolerable’ life ... as more important than the interests that others may have in any significant decisions made about him or her” — like parents, I guess. If babies are born after twenty-two weeks, the Council said, intensive care should be given only if both doctors and parents agree on it.

This is frightening enough. But what’s even more frightening are some of the factors that went into this decision.

As reported on our blog, THE POINT, organizations around England weighed in to help the Council develop these recommendations. One of those organizations was the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecology, who called for “active euthanasia” of disabled babies.

Then the Church of England entered the fray. But if you thought that they got involved to speak up for the lives of the defenseless, you’d be wrong. Instead, they backed up the obstetricians and gynecologists — the ones who were saying that a disabled and painful life was not worth living. Although it didn’t actually advocate euthanasia, the church’s statement did call for the withholding of treatment for premature babies “in some circumstances ... knowing it will possibly, probably, or even certainly result in death.”

Here we have a chilling close-up view of how far the culture of death has advanced. To whom should human life be more sacred than to the Church and to the medical community? But in this case both have turned their backs on the human lives most in need of protection. Of course they claim to be doing this in the “best interests” of the infants and their families. But if these guidelines are officially adopted, just wait until a case comes up in which the child could survive with treatment, and the parents want that treatment. I guarantee you we’ll be informed that death rather than disability is in the child’s “best interest.”

In fact, we don’t have to wait. Look at the case of Charlotte Wyatt, born premature and disabled in Portsmouth, England. Her parents were forced to wage a major battle against the doctors for her life. Charlotte is now three, and the media uses words like TRAGIC to refer to her case — despite the fact that, though disabled, she’s still alive. A good sign of where the media’s priorities are, isn’t it? Just as with Terri Schiavo, the disabled life is seen as inconvenient to others and so not worth living.

But this is not about convenience, not about what’s easy or painless. It is about the sacredness and the dignity of human life made in the image of God. That the Anglican Church has discarded that truth should concern us all profoundly because if we can’t trust the Body of Christ to hold human life sacred, who can we trust? And don’t just write this off as, “Well, it’s the Brits.” So often what happens in England soon finds its way here.

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Copyright (c) 2006 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

In the 1998 film GATTACA, the hero says that he will never know what possessed his mother to put her faith in God instead of a geneticist.

That’s because, in this science-fiction film, he lives in a world where prospective parents can screen their would-be children for “defects” before they are implanted in the womb. In this world, “defects” aren’t limited to life-threatening conditions; they also include things like near-sightedness.

In the world of GATTACA, people who weren’t screened before birth form a permanent underclass called “in-valids.”

Since the film’s release, the biotech industry and their paid shills have insisted that GATTACA is fiction and that nothing like that could happen in real life. Well, something like it just did.

In May, Britain’s Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority authorized a London clinic to screen for a condition called “squint.”

Squint causes the affected eye to look inwards or outwards instead of straight ahead. Squint can be treated various ways: eyeglasses, temporary patches, eye drops and, in the most severe cases, surgery.

The Authority’s ruling was in response to a businessman who has this condition and his wife, who “[wanted] to ensure they do not have a severely cross-eyed child.”

The clinic will employ a technique known as preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD). Previously, PGD had been limited to cases involving “life-shortening conditions such as cystic fibrosis and fatal blood disorders.” Then the uses of PGD began to expand. Doctors have used it to screen for genetic evidence of possible adult diseases like cancer and early-onset Alzheimer’s.

Now, they’re using it for cosmetic imperfections. As David King of Human Genetics Alert said: “We moved from preventing children who will die young to those who might become ill in middle age. And now we discard those who will live as long as the rest of us but are cosmetically imperfect.”

The man who will perform the test agrees. Gedis Grudzinskas predicts that the use of embryo screening for “severe cosmetic defects” will increase because of the ruling. By “severe” he means anything that might cause a family “severe distress,” like the wrong hair color, which could lead to “bullying” and “even suicide.”

Anybody who is surprised by this story simply hasn’t been paying attention. As I’ve previously told BreakPoint listeners, genetic testing has turned people with Down syndrome into an endangered species. Actually, they might survive if they weren’t human: If they were wolves or ferrets, someone might actually care that they were being eliminated.

If we’re willing to do this to children who can be seen on a sonogram, why would you think that we wouldn’t target people who can’t be? Especially when you factor in the cost of treating the conditions being tested for.

As David King said, “philosophers love to deride the idea of a slippery slope.” But then we look around us and we are ten feet further down the hill than the last time we looked. The only question is now: Are we ready to put real limits on the uses of genetic testing?

Look around us today, and the world looks a lot like it did in that movie GATTACA. Frightening at the time — and frightening today.

________

Copyright (c) 2007 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

Author Maxie Dunnam heard a dramatic story of a new life in Christ from a friend named Tom, who was a preacher. One night Tom was called by a church member to come to a serious accident on a major road near his house.

When Tom got there, one young man was in the ditch near his smashed car. His face was so muddy and bloody that Tom didn’t recognize him. In the other ditch was a member of Tom’s church, not seriously injured.

Tom asked him who the other guy was. When told that his name was Jim Bob, Tom remembered him. His mother was a member of Tom’s church, and occasionally Jim Bob had attended. Tom had visited him in jail on a couple of occasions, because he had lived the kind of life that often got him into trouble with the law.

Tom knelt down beside Jim Bob in the ditch and stayed with him as they awaited the ambulance. “Would you like to pray?” Tom asked. “Preacher, I don’t know how to pray.” The ambulance was coming, but Tom prayed with Jim Bob before he was put in the ambulance.

During the following time of hospitalization, Tom visited often with Jim Bob. He shared his concern over his injuries, but he also shared about the new life that Christ could give him.

Then the medical verdict came: Jim Bob was permanently paralyzed from his waist down. Tom moved away from that city about a month after the accident. But his successor in that church told him the rest of the story.

About three months later, a wheelchair came down the aisle one Sunday morning at the close of the worship service. It was Jim Bob, and he made a public profession of faith in Jesus Christ and asked to be baptized.

After the service, the preacher asked him, “Jim Bob, how do you feel? How are you handling being paralyzed for the rest of your life?”

“Preacher, I’d rather be paralyzed and in this wheelchair for the rest of my life, than to be walking around without Jesus Christ.”