Set the World Ablaze

Written on Thursday morning.

I could feel the excitement the air as I got off the metro this morning.

High-schoolers lugging backpacks passed me in Union Station. In matching neon vests with "Life Guard" printed on the back, I knew what they were here for.

The March is tomorrow.

Another group crossed the street outside Union Station. These were slightly older and rolled suitcases behind them. But again, with their pro-life paraphernalia, I knew why they had come. They grinned back, probably a little surprised, at me and the massive smile I extended their way. I resisted the urge to take the map from their hands and direct them where they needed to go.

My friend Brittani texted me, "I'm in your city!" and I wrote back, "Want to get lunch??" She's still on the bus from Notre Dame but making her way over here post haste. I can't wait.

It's my favorite time of year in DC. My fifth time marching.

Everywhere you go, you see huge crowds of high schoolers and college kids, wearing pro-life hoodies and holding pro-life signs.

On almost every street corner, you run into someone you know and love—someone you haven't seen in a while. And as you embrace another beloved friend, you can't help but think, maybe this is a tiny little foretaste of what Heaven will feel like.

I know the reason we are gathered here is a sad one. The legalized murder of innocent babies is taking place around us every day—what many rightly call the abortion holocaust—the darkest evil of our modern age.

But we who fight it are not angry. We are filled with joy.

I wish that every person who thinks ill of pro-lifers could see us tomorrow—see the joy on every face and feel the air thick with love.

The media may ignore us—indeed, inevitably will ignore us—as it does every year. But for each successive March, our numbers rise and swell. How much longer can they keep us silent?

There is nothing I desire more in my lifetime than to see Roe v. Wade overturned. (If that offends you, please know I, and all pro-lifers, don't believe in throwing women under the bus. We donate money to crisis pregnancy centers, pray, write, and volunteer our time to help women who are considering abortion. We are as  pro-woman, pro-adoption, and pro-giving a woman every resource she needs, as we are pro-baby.)

But our annual convergence on Washington to protest it is an occasion for so much happiness and camaraderie. Part of me hopes that, even after Roe v. Wade is overturned, we will still gather on the National Mall for a joyful reunion every year—only then, in celebration of victory and of life, the life we seek to defend.

I'll miss the March for Life very much when it's gone—but I still hope someday I'll see it be no longer necessary.

Will you march with us tomorrow? Even better—will you pray with us?