Breakpoint

The final line of the Eagle’s song “Hotel California” accurately describes the current state of LGBTQ so-called “rights,” especially gender affirmation clinics: “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

Last week, Democratic presidential front-runner Joe Biden unveiled his campaign commitments on these issues, and included everything on the sexual left’s Christmas list: rollbacks of religious liberty protections, the passage of the so-called Equality Act, adding a “third gender” option on government forms, and of course, supporting a total ban on so-called “conversion therapy.”

That pejorative term no longer applies, by the way, to things like “shock therapy.” Anyone who counsels or psychologically treats someone with unwanted same-sex attraction or gender dysphoria, to help them bring their feelings in line with their body, is accused of conversion therapy. The newly invented standards of care now call for so-called gender “affirming” therapy, which instead tries to bring the body in line with feelings, often through lifelong doses of cross-sex hormones and mutilating “sex-change” operations.

The former vice president’s campaign promises to closely resemble new legislation in Canada that would ban all non-affirming forms of therapy for LGBTQ patients. In fact, Canada’s measure is severe, not only banning but criminalizing so-called “conversion therapy,” threatening jail time for professionals who offer it, or even, apparently, parents who might seek it for their children.

Such a ban is justified by the medically and ethically deficient things done in the name of helping those with unwanted attractions or dysphoria, supporters say. But largely ignored is the growing evidence that so-called “affirming” therapies often fail to help people and even can leave them worse off.

For example, as we mentioned recently on another BreakPoint commentary, a movement of hundreds of young people has emerged in Great Britain, who are “de-transitioning” after coming to regret their gender switch. One woman is suing the British National Health Service for the decision to so quickly place her on puberty-blocking drugs, at age 16, after a “gender-affirming” clinic proclaimed she was a boy.

Now in her early 20s, the woman says that the NHS gender clinic didn’t do enough to counsel her away from gender transition or inform her of the real consequences. “I was allowed to run with this idea that I had, almost like a fantasy, as a teenager...and it has affected me in the long run as an adult.”

Her lawyers are arguing something that should be obvious to us all: Children can’t fully understand the impact cross-sex hormones will have on their future, especially in areas like fertility. Yet in the U.K. and increasingly in North America, puberty-blocking drugs have become standard treatment for children with gender dysphoria—sometimes, according to the BBC, as young as age twelve.

If Biden and Canadian legislators have their way, not only will many kids be similarly pressured but, even worse, those not wishing to transition and those wishing to “de-transition” one day will have nowhere to turn for professional help.

Of course, ideology, not evidence, is the primary force driving the push to “affirm” gender confusion and ban any other type of therapy. Another force, by the way, is emotional manipulation.

Parents with gender dysphoric children are emotionally manipulated by the threat of suicide. I’ve had several moms, seeking some help at events where I’ve spoken, say the same thing: “My son or daughter thinks they’re gay or transgender, and I think it’s wrong, but I don’t want them to kill themselves. What should I do?”

What they’ve heard is affirm or be responsible for their child’s death. Yet a 2011 study of over 300 Swedish men who had undergone sex reassignment surgery found that 10-15 years later, their suicide rate was still 20 times higher than their peers.  The authors of another study in the U.K. admitted that “There is no conclusive evidence that sex change operations improve the lives of transsexuals, with many people remaining severely distressed and even suicidal after the operation...”

In other words, the grass isn’t greener on the affirmation side. In fact, a 2013 Dutch study found that over 60% of children who expressed gender dysphoria spontaneously desisted after puberty and began identifying with their birth sex.

Still the affirmation-only push continues, and if bans on “conversion therapy” succeed, anyone hoping to check out of the LGBTQ movement will be told they can never leave.

All of Scripture points to the incarnation of Jesus Christ, the God of all creation who took on human flesh to restore all things to Himself. And if God Himself took on human flesh, and we are made in His image, then our very bodies, male and female, point to Christ as well.

This, according to Christopher West, is the key to understanding what our bodies are for, including our gender, our sexuality, and marriage itself. They are pointing to God’s story. A story that our sexually confused culture so needs to hear.

Christopher West joined John Stonestreet recently for a Colson Center webinar about his outstanding new book, Our Bodies Tell God’s Story.

And this month we are offering Our Bodies Tell God’s Story in return for any gift to BreakPoint and the Colson Center.

Euphemisms for abortion abound: “a woman’s right to choose,” “reproductive freedom,” and “a private decision between a woman and her doctor.” The latest euphemism, one being increasingly used in political discourse, is “access to essential healthcare.”

Recently, a listener sent us Planned Parenthood’s latest fundraising letter. Between pleas to fund their organization and fight the Trump Administration, abortion was referred to as either “healthcare” or “care” a dizzying fifteen times.

The American Civil Liberties Union has also embraced the phrase, particularly on the signs they provide for their protesters, including at the Supreme Court.  Also, in a recent blog post savaging the pro-life policies of the Trump Administration by the ACLU of Northern California, the author insisted “Abortion is basic healthcare” again and again.

It’s almost as if there was a pro-abortion PR meeting which was even attended by the two leading democratic candidates for president.

Another listener recently wrote in to let us know that Doctors Without Borders, one of the largest non-government providers of aid to victims of conflict and famine around the world, is now openly pushing do-it-yourself abortions in their work around the world.

Alerted by a report from the Center for Family and Human Rights, this listener called Doctors Without Borders to find out if it was true. “Yes,” the representative said, abortion is part of the, you guessed it, “health care services” that Doctors without Borders provides in numerous countries.

I wonder how many of their donors know about the partnership Doctors without Borders established earlier this year with HowToUseAbortionPill.org, an online community whose purpose is to educate and encourage people to use chemical abortions around the world. In an article explaining why they are so aggressively promoting chemical abortions worldwide, Doctors without Borders, slammed the Trump Administration’s Global Gag Rule and insisted that “Despite the stigma, abortion is a part of people’s lives and a key component of”—here it is again—“reproductive health care.”

Our listener isn’t the first person I’ve spoken with who’s pulled support from Doctors Without Borders. One alternative for anyone wishing to support a group that provides only actual healthcare and medical expertise is the Christian Medical and Dental Association, which currently has affiliates in over 60 countries.

Labeling abortion as “healthcare” subverts the very essence of medicine, and it uses words to dodge the reality of what abortion is and does.

If you find yourself in a conversation about this, needing to explain the problem with the “abortion is healthcare” euphemism, our latest “What Would You Say?” video is phenomenal. Featuring my colleague Brooke Boriack, the video explains three critical things to remember whenever someone calls abortion “healthcare.”

First, the purpose of healthcare is to heal and preserve life, not to end life. For centuries, doctors promised in the Hippocratic Oath to “do no harm.” Abortion fails that test. Unlike real healthcare, even including those procedures performed to save the life of the mother but that endanger the life of an unborn baby, elective abortion is the deliberate killing of an innocent human being. That’s not only wrong, it’s certainly not healthcare.

Second, pregnancy is not a disease to be cured. When a woman is pregnant, her body is working as intended. She’s not sick. Violently terminating pregnancy works against the body’s natural, healthy functioning. That’s not what healthcare does.

Finally, slapping the healthcare label on abortion not only obscures the meaning of the word “healthcare,” it obscures the meaning of the word “abortion.” Anyone wishing to defend abortion should be forced to defend what it is and should not be allowed to cloak the violence using buzzwords.

One step in making abortion illegal and unthinkable is unmasking the verbal tricks that obscure reality. It’s time to make abortion advocates tell the truth, and that begins with refusing to play the language game. Come to BreakPoint.org and we’ll link you to our latest “What Would You Say Video?”

It’s hard to believe, but Boston has decided to cancel its famous St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Boston’s mayor said that the decision was made “out of an abundance of caution” to help contain the coronavirus and to protect the city’s residents.

Now, if you’re among the thousands of disappointed would-be parade goers and marchers: Learn about Patrick the man. Not the man of legend, who supposedly drove the snakes out of Ireland, but about the man of indomitable faith in Jesus Christ.

In 2006, Chuck Colson told St. Patrick’s story in a BreakPoint commentary. Here is Chuck Colson:

Patrick was born in Roman Britain to a middle-class family in about A.D. 390. When Patrick was a teenager, marauding Irish raiders attacked his home. Patrick was captured, taken to Ireland, and sold to an Irish king, who put him to work as a shepherd.

In his excellent book, “How the Irish Saved Civilization,” Thomas Cahill describes the life Patrick lived. Cahill writes, “The work of such slave-shepherds was bitterly isolated, months at a time spent alone in the hills.”

Patrick had been raised in a Christian home, but he didn’t really believe in God. But now—hungry, lonely, frightened, and bitterly cold—Patrick began seeking out a relationship with his heavenly Father. As he wrote in his Confessions, “I would pray constantly during the daylight hours” and “the love of God . . . surrounded me more and more.”

Six years after his capture, God spoke to Patrick in a dream, saying, “Your hungers are rewarded. You are going home. Look—your ship is ready.”

What a startling command! If he obeyed, Patrick would become a fugitive slave, constantly in danger of capture and punishment. But he did obey—and God protected him. The young slave walked nearly two hundred miles to the Irish coast. There he boarded a waiting ship and traveled back to Britain and his family.

But, as you might expect, Patrick was a different person now, and the restless young man could not settle back into his old life. Eventually, Patrick recognized that God was calling him to enter a monastery. In time, he was ordained as a priest, then as a bishop.

Finally—thirty years after God had led Patrick away from Ireland—He called him back to the Emerald Isle as a missionary.

The Irish of the fifth century were a pagan, violent, and barbaric people. Human sacrifice was commonplace. Patrick understood the danger and wrote: “I am ready to be murdered, betrayed, enslaved—whatever may come my way.”

Cahill notes that Patrick’s love for the Irish “shines through his writings . . . He [worried] constantly for his people, not just for their spiritual but for their physical welfare.”

Through Patrick, God converted thousands. Cahill writes, “Only this former slave had the right instincts to impart to the Irish a New Story, one that made sense of all their old stories and brought them a peace they had never known before.” Because of Patrick, a warrior people “lay down the swords of battle, flung away the knives of sacrifice, and cast away the chains of slavery.”

As it is with many Christian holidays, Saint Patrick’s Day has lost much of its original meaning. Instead of settling for parades, cardboard leprechauns, and “the wearing of the green,” we ought to recover our Christian heritage, celebrate the great evangelist, and teach our kids about this Christian hero.

  That was Chuck Colson from back in 2006. To learn more about St. Patrick, check out today’s BreakPoint Podcast. Shane Morris interviews T. M. Moore, a former colleague of Chuck’s and the author of “Celtic Flame: The Burden of St. Patrick.” And tomorrow and Wednesday only, Fathom Events is showing a brand-new movie starring John Rhys-Davies called “I Am Patrick.”

         Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Getting beyond the shamrocks, green beer, and (now cancelled) parades, who was the historical St. Patrick?  Today on the BreakPoint Podcast, we welcome back our former Colson Center colleague and expert on St. Patrick, T. M. Moore.

Moore describes the events of Patrick's life and gives us an inspiring glimpse into the spiritual life of this giant of the faith, a man whom God used to ignite a revival among the Irish--a revival that would, in the end, save Western Civilization.

Moore is the founder of the Fellowship  of Ailbe and author of Celtic Flame: The Burden of Patrick,  which is available at our online bookstore.

Celtic Flame: The Burden of St. Patrick, by  T. M. Moore

Learn more about the Fellowship of Ailbe

How the Irish Saved Civilization (e-book), by Thomas Cahill

John Stonestreet and  Shane Morris talk about the proper Christian response to the coronavirus pandemic. Where is our trust? Are we looking out for the welfare of our neighbors? How have Christians in times past handled health crises?

Also on today's episode: Volunteers step up in the Volunteer State after tornadoes hit; Joe Biden's laundry list of pro-LGBT goodies that will steamroll religious freedom and freedom of conscience; Hollywood's reaction to Harvey Weinstein's conviction; and Ohio seeks to prohibit targeting Down Syndrome babies with abortion and how the pro-abortion lobby is showing its hypocrisy.

“C. S. Lewis and the Coronavirus,” by John Stonestreet and Roberto Rivera, BreakPoint

C. S. Lewis Doodle: “On Living in the Atomic Age, by C. S. Lewis”

“Brush with the Black Death: how artists painted through the plague,” by Jonathan Jones, The Guardian

“NHS gender clinic ‘should have challenged me more’ over transition,” by Allison Holt, BBC

“Biden Unveils Vast LGBT Plan Overturning Trump’s Religious Liberty Protections,” by Michael Foust, Christian Headlines

The news this week about COVID-19, known as the coronavirus, has certainly, to understate it, escalated: New infections, grimmer projections, lots and lots of cancellations (including—can you believe it?—March Madness). The news changes so quickly day by day, even hour by hour, that it’s hard to keep up, much less know, really, what to think about all of this.

C.S. Lewis once said that we should read three old books for every new one. I think we should read three C.S. Lewis books for every new one. He never faced the coronavirus, of course, but in the late 1940s, the world was coming to grips with another threat: nuclear annihilation. The bomb was only a few years old, and in the hands of sworn national enemies. The uncertainty of what exactly could happen, not to mention what might happen, was palpable. In that context, C.S. Lewis wrote an essay entitled “On Living in an Atomic Age.”

I’m grateful to one of my BreakPoint colleagues, Ashlee Cowles, for reminding us of this essay along with some sage advice: Whenever you hear “atomic bomb” in this essay, think “coronavirus.”

“We think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb,” Lewis begins. To those who wonder how it’s possible to go on in the face of such a threat, Lewis recalls that theirs was not the first generation to live under a threatening shadow. In fact, if we’re honest, we all live under a sentence of death, and for some of us, that death could even be “unpleasant.”

The important question, says Lewis, is not whether or how we will die but if in the meantime we will be doing “sensible” and “human” things like “praying, working . . . reading, listening to music, bathing the children.”

Lewis asks his readers to consider the important but unsettling truth that “Nature does not, in the long run, favor life.” It’s an ominous observation that points to an essential worldview truth: “If Nature is all that exists—in other words, if there is no God and no life of some quite different sort somewhere outside of Nature—then all stories “will end in the same way: in a universe from which all life is banished without the hope of return.”

How do we respond to this unsettling truth? Lewis saw only three options: The first is suicide, something not uncommon in Britain of the 1940s and 50s. The second, “simply to have as good a time as possible. The universe is a universe of nonsense, but since you are here, grab what you can.”

Of course, as Lewis noted, “there is, on these terms, so very little left to grab—only the coarsest sensual pleasures.” Whether we’re talking about sex or listening to music, the pleasure is diminished by the knowledge that any enjoyment we might derive are merely “illusions,” the product of “irrational conditioning” determined by our genes.

The third response, Lewis said, is to “go down fighting,” to live as if the universe has meaning. We can insist on being rational and merciful even when the universe is not. Of course, if we choose that option, there’s no way to actually prevail against the “idiocy” of the universe—it would still win. Our insistence on being rational and merciful has no real justification.

The hopelessness of those three options should instead lead us to a different conclusion: “We must simply accept . . .,” said Lewis, “that we are spirits, free and rational beings, at present inhabiting an irrational universe, and must draw the conclusion that we are not derived from it.”

In other words, we must reject naturalism and embrace “a much earlier view:” biblical theism. It’s the only grounds on which we can avoid the despair brought on by the knowing that we are under a “sentence of death,” whatever form that death takes.

Lewis’ words are just as relevant today as they were seven decades ago. For people who believe there is a God, doing the “sensible” and “human” things are possible because we have hope. For those who don’t have that hope, no amount of toilet paper or cans of Spam stacked in the garage can make anyone truly safe, much less solve the ultimate question of meaning that haunts us all.

Today as yesterday, the world is still in God’s hands. Nothing has changed. Whatever the next chapter of this coronavirus story might be, the same questions remain to us: Will we trust God? And then, will we love our neighbors? And finally, how shall we then live?

The news this week about COVID-19, known as the coronavirus, has certainly, to understate it, escalated: New infections, grimmer projections, lots and lots of cancellations (including—can you believe it?—March Madness). The news changes so quickly day by day, even hour by hour, it’s hard to keep up, much less know, really, what to think about all of this.

C.S. Lewis once said that we should read three old books for every new one. I think we should read three C.S. Lewis books for every new one. He never faced the coronavirus, of course, but in the late 1940s, the world was coming to grips with another threat: nuclear annihilation. The bomb was only a few years old, and in the hands of sworn national enemies. The uncertainty of what exactly could happen, not to mention what might happen, was palpable. In that context, C.S. Lewis wrote an essay entitled “On Living in an Atomic Age.”

I’m grateful to one of my BreakPoint colleagues, Ashlee Cowles, for reminding us of this essay along with some sage advice: Whenever you hear “atomic bomb” in this essay, think “coronavirus.”

“We think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb,” Lewis begins. To those who wonder how it’s possible to go on in the face of such a threat, Lewis recalls that theirs was not the first generation to live under a threatening shadow. In fact, if we’re honest, we all live under a sentence of death, and for some of us, that death could even be “unpleasant.”

The important question, says Lewis, is not whether or how we will die but if in the meantime we will be doing “sensible” and “human” things like “praying, working . . . reading, listening to music, bathing the children.”

Lewis asks his readers to consider the important but unsettling truth that “Nature does not, in the long run, favor life.” It’s an ominous observation that points to an essential worldview truth: “If Nature is all that exists—in other words, if there is no God and no life of some quite different sort somewhere outside of Nature—then all stories “will end in the same way: in a universe from which all life is banished without the hope of return.”

How do we respond to this unsettling truth? Lewis saw only three options: The first is suicide, something not uncommon in Britain of the 1940s and 50s. The second, “simply to have as good a time as possible. The universe is a universe of nonsense, but since you are here, grab what you can.”

Of course, as Lewis noted, “there is, on these terms, so very little left to grab—only the coarsest sensual pleasures.” Whether we’re talking about sex or listening to music, the pleasure is diminished by the knowledge that any enjoyment we might derive are merely “illusions,” the product of “irrational conditioning” determined by our genes.

The third response, Lewis said, is to “go down fighting,” to live as if the universe has meaning. We can insist on being rational and merciful even when the universe is not. Of course, if we choose that option, there’s no way to actually prevail against the “idiocy” of the universe—it would still win. Our insistence on being rational and merciful has no real justification.

The hopelessness of those three options should instead lead us to a different conclusion: “We must simply accept . . .,” said Lewis, “that we are spirits, free and rational beings, at present inhabiting an irrational universe, and must draw the conclusion that we are not derived from it.”

In other words, we must reject naturalism and embrace “a much earlier view:” biblical theism. It’s the only grounds on which we can avoid the despair brought on by the knowing that we are under a “sentence of death,” whatever form that death takes.

Lewis’ words are just as relevant today as they were six decades ago. For people who believe there is a God, doing the “sensible” and “human” things are possible because we have hope. For those who don’t have that hope, no amount of toilet paper or cans of Spam stacked in the garage can make anyone truly safe, much less solve the ultimate question of meaning that haunts us all.

Today as yesterday, the world is still in God’s hands. Nothing has changed. Whatever the next chapter of this coronavirus story might be, the same questions remain to us: Will we trust God? And then, will we love our neighbors? And finally, how shall we then live?

What sets Christianity apart from all other world religions? Certainly the divinity and resurrection of Jesus, but what else?

Christianity grounds a respect for all human life, but so do other religions such as Jainism and Wicca. Christianity has a robust moral framework that holds all of us to a high standard of behavior, but so do Orthodox Judaism and Islam, especially when it comes to human sexuality.

But what about forgiveness? Jesus’ radical command to not only forgive, but to forgive “seventy times seven,” has no equivalent in any other faith. Add that to the command to love, bless, and pray for our enemies and those who persecute us, and now we have something that only Christianity offers the world—something the world would desperately miss if it ever lost it. After all, when Christians forgive as we are instructed to do, the world can’t help but take notice.

In a recent interview with the BBC, Asia Bibi, the Pakistani Christian who spent eight years waiting execution on a trumped-up charge of blasphemy, recalled her mistreatment, including “having her neck put in a brace tightened by a key and pulled on a chain by guards.” She described how much of sham her “trial” was, and how she was not even allowed to say anything in her own defense. She talked about the pressure she faced to renounce her faith.

And then she said, “I am not angry at all. I have forgiven everyone from my heart. And there is no hardness in me.” She then offered kind words for the government of Pakistan, saying she was “proud” of her country for ultimately freeing her.

Also last week, four Nigerian elders gathered together to worship in the charred remains of their church, just two days after terrorists from Boko Haram burnt it and two other churches to the ground, destroyed parts of the village, and kidnapping a few of the women there. During the service, the elders prayed for God’s “forgiveness, mercy, and cleansing of the land.”

Of course, the idea of forgiveness isn’t unique to Christianity. Other religions and even secular worldviews sometimes talk about the need for forgiveness, or at least of “letting go of the past.”

How Christianity defines forgiveness, however, goes far beyond this. Jesus taught us to pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” In Matthew 18, he told a parable about a man who was forgiven an unimaginably huge debt who then refused to forgive someone a much smaller debt. The unmerciful debtor was thrown in prison for his lack of forgiveness, to which Jesus added: “So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.”

In other words, radical forgiveness and mercy are not an optional self-help suggestion in Christianity. We don’t forgive because it’s good for us, though it is, but because the central truth of the Christian way of seeing the world is that we have been forgiven much. Being reconciled to God through the death of his Son means being reconciled to others, even our greatest enemies.

In John Grisham’s recent novel, “The Guardians,” a man who has spent 23 years in prison for a murder he didn’t commit, confronts three people whose false testimony put him behind bars.  As he listens to them confess their lies, Grisham writes, “he is stunned by the speed with which he forgave [them] . . . something came over him, maybe the Holy Spirit, and he just couldn’t hate anymore. He closed his eyes and asked God to take away all of his hate, and in a flash a huge burden left his shoulders.”

Grisham’s novel, which the Washington Post called “terrific,” points out another thing that sets Christian forgiveness apart. Not only does God demand radical forgiveness from us, He then enables us to do this thing that seems impossible. As Paul told the Galatians, we can only live a forgiven and forgiving life, through faith in the Son of God who loved us and gave Himself for us.

Just as when Mother Emmanuel Church members forgave Dylan Roof or when the Amish parents forgave and loved the parent of the one who took their children, the world cannot make sense of this kind of mercy. Yet it also cannot help but take notice.

A couple of years ago, I came across a strange story out of Japan in Bloomberg BusinessWeek. Dozens of elderly women, it turned out, admitted to crimes of petty theft in the hopes of going to prison. “There are always people around,” one of the inmates told a reporter, “and I don’t feel lonely here.”

I remembered this heartbreaking story a few weeks ago when The Atlantic published David Brooks’ latest piece about the nuclear family. Brooks argued that the nuclear family as we define it now, with mom, dad, and kids often isolated from extended family, was not the norm for most of human history. Our fragmenting into smaller and smaller, and ever more isolated, family units has hurt us, he said.

Much of Brooks’ piece, as well as the significant volume of responses it triggered, focused on the challenges of raising children without extended families. Unmentioned, but just as much at stake, is what the elderly population has to lose in these new modern arrangements.

After all, it is one of the largest generations in modern American history, the baby boomers, that make up today’s elderly. With far more boomers than there are Generation X-ers, the math just isn’t working out. Who will care for them? The lack of a clear answer to that question explains a whole range of strange and heartbreaking stories like the thieving grandmas in Japan, or the increasing number elderly people who die alone at home and aren’t discovered for days or even weeks, or tech companies betting on a profitable opportunity in artificial intelligence that can keep the elderly company.

According to the last census, nearly 11 million Americans over 65 live alone. Another California study found that 43% of all seniors surveyed suffered from loneliness, whether or not they lived alone. Loneliness is especially hard on seniors. A seven-year UK study found that “the lack of social contact leads to an early death, regardless of participants’ underlying health issues” because loneliness is linked to things such as “high blood pressure, obesity, heart disease, a weakened immune system, depression, anxiety, cognitive decline, and Alzheimer’s disease.”

Still, our loneliness epidemic is even more a cultural problem than a math problem. After all, the generation whose parents are now aging came of age themselves in the Roe v. Wade era. We’ll have to come to terms with what legally treating inconvenient lives as disposable will do to our cultural consciousness. Beyond the taking of innocent life, legalized, monetized, and popularized abortion kills a culture’s sense of what life is even for.

Inevitably, life post-Roe is too often evaluated, not in terms of its own dignity, but in terms of some sort of self-satisfaction bottom line. It’s not hard to see where that slippery slope leads. Suddenly, we’re toying with genocide against babies with Down Syndrome. Suddenly, we’re exploring assisted suicide and euthanasia not only for the sick, but also the uncomfortable or the depressed. The criteria for so-called acceptable or even desirable death grows thin. It’s that world, that culture, that group of people that is forced to deal with a growing number of isolated elderly.

All of us grow less autonomous and more needy with age. Words like “inconvenient” and “burden,” words used for decades to justify legalized abortion, are now being used for others. As Chuck Colson warned, a worldview that says we weren’t made on purpose but happened by accident ends with the conclusion that life isn’t beautiful anymore. Rather, it’s a numbers game that favors the strongest and the wealthiest.

The body of Christ has what the larger world needs if it to find a way to care for its aging population: the knowledge that all life is beautiful and valuable, even if it’s vulnerable. We’ll have to say that over and over, and we'll have to live it too: There shouldn’t be a nursing home in the country not flooded with Christian neighbors during visiting hours.

On that foundation, we can develop plans for our aging parents that holds them as integral members of our families, not distant obligations. We must innovate ever better palliative care, and the Church must become the leading place in our world where multi-generational relationships are both fostered and celebrated.

Our kids, after all, are watching. One day, they’ll have to decide how much of a burden we are to them.