Concordia TheoBLOGical Seminary

Apparently babies aren’t eco-friendly. They consume too much, create too much waste, and take up too much space. They’re costly and inefficient and unproductive. And if that wasn’t enough, they cause overpopulation.

To Lutheran ears, those notions sound ridiculous. But to a society intent on going green, babies are nothing more than an environmental hazard. As a result, a woman in Europe recently disclosed that not only did she have an abortion, but she had also been sterilized so as to leave the smallest possible carbon footprint on earth. Children, she insinuates, are killing the planet.

If not for my Lutheran faith, it could be easy to agree with her. But since I was small, I have been taught about the sacredness of life, whether that of a baby girl or an elderly man. I was told that the world is sinful and broken. In Sunday school, I memorized the Fifth Commandment: you shall not kill. In family devotions I learned the meaning from the Small Catechism: we should fear and love God so that we do not hurt or harm our neighbor in his body, but help and support him in every physical need. Finally, in high school, I took a Christian Marriage and Family class, and learned that the church always responds to those who disregard this (or any) commandment with the promise of forgiveness in Christ for the truly repentant.

But it doesn’t end there. As a Lutheran, I am still learning about God’s Word, realizing it is always relevant to the times. And more recently, all of those Lutheran truths that I learned as child about the sacredness of a person’s life have begun to gel. They have done so because several couples confided in me of their desire for children. These couples played by the rules. They got married, found a good Lutheran church, have their lives in order, and are now hoping for children. But their prayers seem to have fallen on deaf ears. For one reason or another, there are no babies. Hearing this, everything I learned about the sanctity of life while growing up started to make sense.

I learned by listening — to Lutheran pastors, teachers, and my parents. I also listened while a friend cried on the phone, desperate for a child, wondering why the single mother next door with three children and a live-in boyfriend could get pregnant but she could not. I listened as another struggled to work through whether or not medical procedures to get pregnant were ethical. I listened as one tried to joke off her barren womb, calling it a factory that was not only shut down but repossessed, all the while hearing the hurt in her voice. These women all want nothing more than to have a child. They want to change diapers. They want to cuddle. They want to be mothers.

If not for Lutheran catechesis, I would have seen these women differently. I would sympathize. I would send a card. But I wouldn’t understand. I would also see the European woman intent on saving the environment differently. It would be easy to be repulsed. After all, she openly rejects God’s command to be fruitful, and she has built up her own idols of organic food and low-energy light bulbs. But because of pastors, parents, and Sunday school teachers, I see her differently too. She is a sinner in desperate need of a Savior, just as I am.

As a Lutheran, I am still learning, because a Light has shined in the darkness. In a world of death, I have learned that Christ has given life. In the midst of heartbreak, I have learned that Christ causes rejoicing. This does not mean that my friends won’t suffer as they wait for a child that may never come. It doesn’t mean they won’t be disappointed. It doesn’t mean they won’t hurt. But their (and our) hope is not in fossil fuels and greenhouse gases. It is in Jesus Christ, and He has and will continue to work all things for our good.

Originally published in Notes for Life, LCMS World Relief and Human Care. Used with permission.