Tombs of the Unknowns.
There have been 40 million abortions in the US since 1973. There are 2.7 abortions performed every minute. Imagine 40 million tiny gravestones gleaming in the sunlight on the grassy slope of Normandy or at Arlington National Cemetery. While we post sentries at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Washington that contain the remains of our youth fallen in battle, there is no tomb for these little bones.
It is unknown to us what these nameless little “unknowns” may have been, or may have done to help build what John Winthrop referred to as a “City set on a Hill.” We are told that Jesus wept while standing outside the Tomb of Lazarus. It is a wonder that America is not weeping, wearing sackcloth and ashes, or Christians are not building another Mayflower to sail away on, before the Almighty completely flattens our city on a hill. We “flatter” ourselves too much about being the greatest nation.
No nation can be great while being built on the bones of the least. Every little aborted being has left behind an empty womb and a haunted, hollow heart that tries hard to excuse or explain away an absence and the awful choice made to crush the most helpless. Only God knows how many would-be-mothers drove to work today worried about paying a heavy mortgage on a bankrupt soul.
In November some will move a switch in a voting booth of self interest, thinking they are doing good, when in fact they will be pulling the lever on a gallows that may one day be all that is left of a once great nation that wanted to harvest stem cells while throwing away the little souls that made them sacred.