In high school I had a position as a saleswoman at an appliance store. I remember the first few weeks on the job being intimidating as I constantly watched the door for new customers coming in; customers I was supposed to socialize with, learn about, and match with the perfect product.
It seemed like a huge undertaking for someone like me. I was awkward, totally unversed in the difference between a 720 flatscreen and a 1080 TV, and I was the youngest employee by far. To top it off, I was convinced anyone in the world could do my job better than I could.
Maybe you’re feeling that way about sidewalk advocacy. This just isn’t for me. I’m awkward. I don’t know what I would say. Isn’t the whole idea crazy? What do I know? Anyone can do this better than me.
But, the truth is, most situations in life are scary when they’re new and unfamiliar. My job was intimidating until I became experienced. Sidewalk advocacy was much the same.
With my high school job and with sidewalk helping, the bottom line was: the reward was greater than the risk.
Now when it comes to sidewalk advocacy, the reward is the highest reward attainable in existence: human lives and souls. This certainly puts the “risk” in perspective.
When I first considered sidewalk advocacy there was a real battle going on in my heart. Eventually I had an honest conversation with myself to figure out the root of my resistance. What was I so afraid of? Feeling embarrassed in front of others. We all have reasons for being resistant and that happened to be my reason.
I decided the reward (saving human lives) was worth the risk (potentially feeling humiliated). And several years later after being blessed to have been part of many women’s journeys of choosing life, I realize how insignificant all the “risks” truly were. Have I embarrassed myself at times? Absolutely. Have tons of lives been saved? Yes!
Let me tell you about a sidewalk helper named Becky who was humiliated to illustrate my point a little further:
One day I went out to sidewalk help and another woman was there to do the same. Her name was Becky and it was the first time I ever met her. A clunker came bustling through the abortion facility parking gate and Becky approached the driver (a father of a teenage girl in the backseat).
He immediately cursed her, screaming that she had no idea what it was like to be poor. He continued to yell every mean-spirited phrase he could conjure up. Becky broke down crying right there on the sidewalk. I couldn’t blame her after the way she had just been belittled.
But through the tears she started telling the man how she grew up poor and how her dad always said “if you can feed one, you can feed two, and if you can feed two, then you can feed three…” She kept on talking. He kept on listening. He left that abortion facility and promised to care for his daughter and his grandchild. She helped instill hope in his desperate heart.
Becky later told me it was her “first day on the job” meaning that it was her first time ever coming to sidewalk help. She told me how nervous she had been to try sidewalk advocacy. We rejoiced together about the saved little one, the teenage girl that was safe from harm, and the father’s change of heart. Jesus used Becky, a nervous wreck and newcomer to save a life. Jesus can use you too, if you let Him.
Each of you have special gifts that only you possess. We cannot buy the lie that someone else will be better than us and that we should leave the work for them. There is only one you. You are the only one who can be the type of sidewalk helper that you are.
Just like fear tells a woman she is not ready to be a mom, fear will tell you that you are not ready to be a sidewalk advocate. If we want her to be brave and choose life, then we have to be brave and choose to be there as a sidewalk advocate.