But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth.
—Mark 5:33
One of my favorite Bible stories is in the Gospel of Mark. A woman has been suffering from hemorrhaging for twelve years. Her constant bleeding destroys her strength and presumably her fertility. In her search for a cure, she spends all of the money she has on doctors who offer her no relief and only make her worse. This alone is a tragedy. But beyond her physical suffering, the stigma associated with her personal health crisis leaves her socially isolated. The rules and norms of her society dictate where a bleeding woman is permitted to go and what kind of social relationships she is allowed to have. For over a decade, her suffering has been a source of great oppression, defining the boundaries of her life and her identity in the eyes of others. Even the writer of the Gospel refers to her only by her condition, not her name.
When the woman learns that a healer named Jesus will be coming through her town, she realizes that this may be her last chance to save her own life. It is time for her to abandon the societal rules that have failed her, to stop asking for permission to heal, and to risk taking what she needs. When Jesus passes her in a crowd, she reaches out to touch his clothing, her fingers barely grazing the bottom hem of his garment. She feels the shift in her body instantly. Her bleeding has stopped. But that is only the beginning of her healing.
Jesus stops in his tracks and asks the crowd, “Who touched me?” The woman, having been healed, could have decided to leave unnoticed. But she feels drawn to the possibility of something even more miraculous: liberation. Despite her fear, this cured woman chooses to tell Jesus, as the story says, the whole truth. I imagine that telling her story and recounting the details of her suffering is gut-wrenching. But as she breaks the silence of her years of isolation and gives voice to her pain, she finds full and complete healing.
This woman’s display of courage to proclaim her truth in front of Jesus is more than a personal healing story. Jesus is not the only one who hears her speak. In the crowd surrounding the healer and the healed one are people who have shunned this woman for her bleeding and blamed her for her suffering. They are the ones who have been complicit in her oppression. I wonder, What impact does her story have on them? How might her truth serve as a catalyst for social change?
I also imagine that among the people gathered around Jesus and the woman are those who long for their own healing. They, too, live with secret struggles and pain. Who else might be healed by her courage to end the silence and speak her truth?
After hearing her story, Jesus responds with compassion and kindness. He doesn’t ask what caused her bleeding to begin with. He doesn’t blame or shame her. He calls her daughter and says that her faith has made her well. Her faith to go against the cultural rules that kept her sick and oppressed. Her faith to seek her own healing without asking for permission. Her faith to overcome her fear and to share her story, no matter the cost.
What if it was her willingness to reach out not only her hand but also her heart that healed her?
In the Gospel of John, Jesus says to his disciples, “The truth will set you free” (8:32). Truth-telling frees all of us, but it takes faith, strength, and bravery. Embracing our inner knowing requires us first to shed the stories others have given us that have silenced and shamed us from speaking up and speaking out.
Like the unhelpful experts who took advantage of the hemorrhaging woman’s vulnerability, others can be far too eager to offer help that actually hurts us. They draw uninformed conclusions and take it upon themselves to define what is right and wrong for everyone else. Without understanding or acknowledging our personal circumstances, they insist on a truth they claim is absolute, offering simple answers to life’s complex questions. They wield these tools of oppression, disguised in the language of love and helpfulness, at our most vulnerable moments. Whether their intentions are to harm or to heal, they push us deeper into isolation instead of toward liberation.
This is true for many of the sacred decisions we make about our bodies, families, and futures. It is especially true for the decision to have an abortion. Everyone claims to have the “right” answer about what someone else ought to do when faced with a pregnancy they cannot continue. We hear the angry protester who stands outside the abortion clinic and shouts words of condemnation. We witness the white conservative male politician as he cites pseudoscience and the Bible to introduce restrictive abortion legislation while denying Medicaid expansion, ignoring rising rates of maternal mortality among Black women, and refusing to pass truly life-giving policies. We have the friend, or the partner, or the family member who lacks the compassionate words and the willingness to listen with an open mind and heart. We recall the early messages from faith leaders and family members about sex, sin, and worthiness in the eyes of God. They say to us, “You are a sinner, and you cannot trust yourself to know what is best for your life.”
Thankfully, the Gospel story offers us a different path to claim our inner knowing that comes in the quiet stillness of our hearts. This account of a woman’s healing of body, mind, and spirit is a testament to the truth that so many times, we know exactly what we need. We have the power to be the catalyst for our own healing and flourishing. Though others may try to sway us to make different choices, the divine voice of God is always there within us, whispering words of truth, nudging us toward the best path for our circumstances, and reminding us that we are never alone. If we can tune out the voices that condemn, judge, and make false promises of healing, we can begin to recognize the sound of sacred wisdom that speaks to us with love and truth:
You are a child of God.
Your faith will make you well.
Your truth will set you free.
If you are among the millions of people who have ended pregnancies, I hope that this book serves as an encouragement and a guide for honoring the truth of your journey, for finding the healing you need, and for working toward the healing of our world. Whether you are making a decision about a pregnancy now or reflecting on a decision you made in the past, whether you felt like you had a real choice or not, whether your path was clear or complicated, whether you had support or not, whether you feel relief or grief (or both), your story is sacred, and it belongs to you. As you encounter others’ experiences, even those seemingly different from yours, I pray that you feel a sense of connection to this community of people who have abortions. I hope you feel seen, heard, and affirmed.
How you feel about your reproductive decisions, talk about them, and process them is all part of your healing journey. As you read the stories within this book, a number of emotions may arise for you: sadness, anger, resentment, despair, loneliness, hope, joy, relief, and more. No emotion is wrong or bad to experience, even if the feeling is unpleasant. But we suffer unnecessarily when we refuse to acknowledge our true feelings about a situation or when we bury them deep within ourselves, only to find them triggered later.
These feelings may be uncomfortable or even painful to endure, but they are not an indication that you made the wrong decision to end the pregnancy. Asking yourself what might have been if you had taken a different path is a normal part of making a decision about your life. When these doubts or questions arise, try to view them as an opportunity to show yourself more compassion and love—and to receive love from others.
If you feel grief or a sense of loss about any aspect of your abortion journey, I want you to know that your pain is not a punishment from God. If there is one thing of which I am certain about God, it’s that God is with you in your pain and your journey to healing. Sometimes I imagine Jesus walking by an abortion clinic. He does not join the protesters on the sidewalk. He does not keep walking by. He accompanies patients so that they don’t have to go into the clinic alone. He speaks words of reassurance as he holds their hands. He gives them a paper cup of ginger ale and a saltine in the recovery room. He offers his loving, compassionate presence throughout it all.
Abortion is a deeply personal experience. Every pregnant person who decides to have an abortion does so within a unique set of life circumstances and realities that only they can understand completely. At the same time, threads of connection exist between your personal experience and the lives of many other people for whom abortion is part of their reproductive journeys. As you honor the truth of your personal story, I invite you, if you haven’t already, to reflect on how your experience is intertwined within a larger human story of reproductive injustice and oppression, the roots of which are ancient and deep and are entangled with racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism, ableism, and other systems of oppression.
Some of these connections might be apparent to you, while others may be less obvious. If you are a person with privilege of any kind, it may require some deep and hard work as you examine your ability or inability to make certain reproductive choices. If you identify as white, it will mean thinking about white supremacy and how that shapes your access to care. If you have economic resources, it will mean thinking about how the cost of abortion was not a barrier to your access. If you accessed abortion care in a state without cumbersome legal restrictions, I invite you to reflect on what it would have been like to face these obstacles. Many factors shape our reproductive journey, and understanding our own helps us deepen our compassion for others who face different challenges and obstacles.
In facing this deep systemic oppression that impacts the ways we are able to move through the world in our bodies, we may feel overwhelmed, but we find ways to hold onto hope. As people of faith, we share a common belief in that which is unseen and greater than any one of us. Together we dare to imagine a world we believe is possible, a thriving society rooted in the values of freedom, dignity, and compassion so that every person, family, and community flourishes fully. We turn our collective pain into a force of loving power that propels us forward in our faithful pursuit of a more just, compassionate world for all.
Healing our world and healing ourselves are one and the same. Just as there are many experiences of abortion, there are many pathways to healing and wholeness. This book will offer many different stories of people’s abortions, their emotional journeys, and their ways of moving forward in their lives as more compassionate, caring, and nonjudgmental people. As you read their stories, release any expectations of what your process should look like and embrace whatever unfolds, knowing that there is no wrong way to be on this journey and that God is with you always. Ask yourself, What is the truth about my abortion experience and my life that would set me free? What am I willing to risk for my freedom? How might embracing and owning my truth help to free others?
As a minister and an advocate for reproductive freedom and dignity, I pray that this book is a balm for your soul and that as you find healing and love for yourself, these stories help guide us all toward the path of our collective liberation.
May we all be set free.