My First Day at the Mill

Pensacola's Abortion Mill

It was October 11^th 2013, the first day I would be standing outside of an abortion clinic, praying, offering one last prayer for the baby before abortion, and the first prayer for healing for the women coming out of the clinic. It was going to be a beautiful, warm Northwest Florida day.

            I had secured the entire day off from work to stand outside the clinic as that day was to be my church’s dedicated day to prayer, but because of some miscues and assumptions the day was not promoted. Fearing no one would be there, I decided I would be there. I dropped my son off at school and started making the drive, not knowing exactly what I was getting in to. I was excited and nervous. As I got within a couple of miles of the mill, my prayers became more intense as did the knots in my stomach. Not only was I standing outside the clinic for the first time, it was also an abortion day. Our mill performs abortions two days a week. I was unsure how I would handle everything that would be happening in that building.

       I pulled into the parking lot and made the short walk down the hill. I immediately met a man about my age walking the other direction from me. We shook hands recognizing we were in the same battle—the passing of the baton if you will. I saw a lot of smiling faces. I turned, faced the building, and started praying. After a few minutes, people mingled around and I was able to meet and learn the names of several people and hear their stories.

            Inevitably this question arose, “What parish do you belong to?” And I would reply with, “Well, I actually go to a Baptist church in Milton.” Then there was an assortment of responses. There was the disappointed, “Oh.” And sometimes there was an occasional wrinkling of the forehead and quick subject change. One very committed and faithful gentleman began to proselytize me to the Catholic faith on the spot with encouraging words like, “When you get serious about looking into your faith you’ll find that Catholicism is a wonderful religion.” Most of the time the conversations turned awkward, so much so that I quickly added, “But I’m the maintenance man at Little Flower Catholic School and I really like Father Casserly.”

             Most of the time I was treated with respect, but with a good helping of “You haven’t really thought this through, have you?” Actually, I have thought this through. My relationship with Jesus Christ is not expressed through religious practices but personal devotion. I’m Baptist not because I was raised Baptist (which I wasn’t), but my well researched and thought out beliefs align more closely with the Southern Baptist doctrinal and belief statements than with any other denomination I have been a part of. I wanted to say, “As passionate as you are about being Catholic, I’m equally passionate about being Baptist,” but I didn’t. I wasn’t there to evangelize, or to apologize. So I politely nodded and agreed with them on the points I could and remained silent on the issues I disagreed with. Besides everyone was so pleasant, and we had one cause that bound us.

            As it turns out I had missed all of the workers and patients going in, so much of what I did, besides pray, was ask anyone and everyone, “Who’s that? What’s their story? Is that the security guard? Is that the abortionist?” I never said a word to anyone on their side. I politely waved to cars going in and out, simply because it’s hard to hate someone that is waving politely to you. I did get flipped off by one post-abortive woman. I really paid the price there. Suffering for Jesus.

            I was settling in for the whole day. I had a chair, my Bible on my iPhone, and a drink. I also had company most of the day with a person or two faithfully coming every hour. One woman approached me and said, “I’m about to pray the rosary. Would you like to pray with me?”

            “No, Ma’am. I’m Baptist.”

            “Well you could still pray it. Would you like me to teach you?”

            “No, Ma’am. I’m fine.”

            “It’s a beautiful prayer.”

My New Rosary

            “Yes, I’m very familiar with the rosary.”

And the directions to said Rosary

            At the end of the hour a friend of hers showed up. They were talking across the driveway. The first lady leaves. The second settles in for her prayer time. At the end of that hour she stood up, walked up to me and said, “(So and so) said you didn’t know how to pray the rosary. Would you like me to pray it with you?”

            “No, Ma’am. I’m Baptist. I’m just reading my Bible and praying.”

            “Well, here’s a rosary for you and directions on how to pray the Pro-Life rosary.”

            “Thank you, Ma’am.”

            I write all of this in good fun. I’m firm in my beliefs as a Protestant, but the reality is that I’m embarrassed. There is a Baptist church on every street corner here in the south. That’s just the Baptists. That’s not including Pentecostal, Methodist, Lutheran, Anglican and Presbyterian churches. Where are you? Protestants are the mainstream religious affiliation in the south and yet we make up so little in the battle for Life.

            I was listening to Alistair Begg this morning preach on Jonah. The passage brought new meaning to me today. Jonah 1:5 Then the mariners were afraid, and each cried out to his god. And they hurled the cargo that was in the ship into the sea to lighten it for them. But Jonah had gone down into the inner part of the ship and had lain down and was fast asleep. These pagan and unbelieving sailors were afraid, crying out, and looking for answers. The only one who had the answer was asleep. As Christian we have the answer to all of life’s problems, but are we asleep? I’m watching the Catholics get involved, and wondering when will my Protestant brothers and sisters wake up?

            My name is Adam Koppin, and I am the 1%...or the token Baptist. I answer to both.       

It All Started With A Balloon

            It all started with a balloon.

            We were at our local St. Rose of Lima Festival, an annual weekend long fundraising event for the local Catholic Church. It was my wife, my 2 ½ year old son, and me at the festival. We aren’t Catholic, we weren’t expecting to meet any friends there, we really have no connection to the place, and we weren’t really interested in looking at any of the crafts or eating any of the food. To be honest, we were there to give our cats a break from the 2 year old’s constant harassing. We spied some helium balloons, which is essentially a toddler magnet, and made our way over to the 40 Days for Life booth to obtain one.

            Of course my wife and I were Pro-Life, we just never did anything about it. I was the youth pastor at a church in Milton, and remembering a presentation done at my former church concerning abortion and purity, I brought in Dr. Lile to speak to my youth. He told me his presentation was broken into two parts spread over three weeks: the first was on purity, the second was on abortion. “If they get the purity part down, there will be no need for abortion,” he told me. Dr. Lile was great and I felt good about making a difference in the youths’ lives, but still not doing anything to get involved personally.

            Between Dr. Lile’s presentation and the St. Rose of Lima Festival I had heard a young lady named Abby Johnson on Focus on the Family. It was very difficult, virtually impossible, for me to listen to her speak on the issue of abortion. The first time I heard Dr. Lile speak, I had a tough time sitting through it, then I had a child of my own. All of a sudden these unborn babies had a name, face, personality, and quirks of their own. The idea of these perfect little babies, exactly like my son, dying was unbearable to me. The second time I heard Dr. Lile speak, I kept my head down and tried to think happy thoughts.

            When we went to the festival, and were drawn towards the balloon—like a moth to a flame, we had the opportunity to meet Ernie and Mary Beth, the leaders of the 40 Days for Life Pensacola initiative. Ernie is a great guy, and Mary Beth has never met a stranger. We hit it off pretty well. We went for a balloon and left with an arm load of brochures, magazines, a book, a DVD, and a balloon. We talked about my youth group and how I had brought in Dr. Lile, but it still was something for the youth.

            One of the items he gave me was Abby Johnson’s book, Unplanned, the book she was discussing on Focus on the Family. I told Ernie I was familiar with her, and had heard that if the reader can get through the second chapter the rest of the book would be a breeze. My wife, Rebekah, is the type of reader who when she finds a good book, sits on the couch and reads through it in an amazingly short amount of time. I remember walking through the living room and hearing sniffles. When she finished the book, I took it up. I got to the second chapter, and locked myself in the proverbial closet and barreled through it—“just keep your head down and keep turning those pages, soldier.”

            Ernie and Mary Beth had planted a seed in us. My mind was now fully engaged in the Pro-Life movement, but it had not translated into activity yet.

            Enter Makayla, one year later, an eighth grader new to our youth ministry. Makayla was a part of our youth ministry for only a few weeks when she approached Rebekah about doing “Pro-Life Cupcakes.” We had never even heard of Pro-Life Cupcakes. She explained to us that you make, decorate and hand out cupcakes to people with a simple message, “These cupcakes represent a birthday cake that a baby will never get to have because of abortion.” We loved the idea. We were going to do it. The only problem was the official “Pro-Life Cupcake Day” was only two weeks away. I approached the people in charge of the St. Rose of Lima festival about handing out the cupcakes there. I thought it would be a nice, safe, friendly environment for the youth to get started in Pro-Life activities. The initial response was positive, but that particular person needed to get approval through someone else. That was the last I heard from anyone from St. Rose of Lima. Time was ticking down. I contacted Dr. Lile and asked him if there was anyone he knew that could assist us in finding a place to hand out 300 cupcakes. He suggested Ernie. I had not remembered that the man who had planted the seeds in us a year earlier was named Ernie. Ernie excitedly invited us to hand out cupcakes at his booth.

            We bought about 10 boxes of cake mix and asked the members of our congregation to make the cupcakes and bring them to the church on Saturday morning. The youth decorated the cupcakes with pink and blue icing, and we transported 300 decorated cupcakes a couple of miles away to the festival where we set up a large sign displaying a cupcake and began to set out to pass out cupcakes and flyers stating our purpose.

            That’s when angry people with radios showed up. I was told that we were specifically not given approval to hand out cupcakes as that would cut into the profits of other vendors. We were giving away items that others were trying to sell. I get that, but at the same time there is a greater cause—ending abortion. Ideas were floated around. One of the Knights of Columbus suggested we give cupcakes to each vendor for them to hand out. I protested that the idea was not to give out cupcakes, but to reinforce the idea that it was symbolic of birthday cakes for the aborted babies. He assured me that no one was more Pro-Life than the Catholics there and the message would be spread. In my own journey down the Pro-Life path I can attest that there is a difference between being Pro-Life and being outspokenly and actively Pro-Life. My second argument is that I wanted to get the youth involved in the movement. They had already decorated the cupcakes and were ready to hand them out. It would seem so disappointing to them just to hand off the task to others who wouldn’t put the same effort into it. Ernie saved the day by promising to pay the squeaky wheels $200 to make up for the lost earnings. Other than a rough start the event went off without a hitch.

            Ernie and Mary Beth must have seen something in us that we had not yet seen in ourselves. We were still mostly inactive. The only thing we had going for us was that we were leaders of a youth ministry and had some influence at our local church. Still, Ernie invited us to attend a strategy session in Pensacola where national leaders would help us develop ways to shut down our local abortion mill. I got to meet Shawn Carney and David Bereit of the national 40 Days for Life organization, and Rebekah Barnes of Students for Life. I was involved in implementing ideas to shut down a mill that I had not yet even driven by, let alone stood outside while praying. I felt guilty for not being more involved, while working on strategies for others to get involved.

            Still seeing something in us that we didn’t see ourselves, Ernie asked me to offer prayers and reflections at the 40 Days for Life kick-off vigil. I agreed. I brought a select group of youth with me, and waited for my time to speak, all the while convicted that I would be speaking about doing something that everyone in the audience had experience with except for me. I had valid reasons for not being more involved. I had a full-time day job, a part-time youth ministry, and a family—all of which took time. I spoke on the fact that everyone going into the mill from the abortionists, to the workers, to the clients, to the boyfriends and husbands all had questions. We may not know what their specific question is, but thank God we know what the answer is. If we are not there to share the love of Jesus, then what are we doing? I then went on to explain that because of my job schedule I have not been able to pray outside of the mill yet, but I could pray and God would listen to my prayers anywhere I was. Silently I decided that I would fast and pray for one meal a day over the next 40 days. Ernie blessed us again by giving us a copy of Carney and Bereit’s book 40 Days for Life, which would make an excellent devotion for my daily fasting and praying time.

            Earlier in the summer Ernie asked if our church would take October 11^th as our prayer day to cover 6 AM to 6PM. I told him I would pass it on to the pastor, as that decision was beyond my authority. That was the last I heard about it until about 10 days before our date when I saw it listed in the bulletin. Afraid that no one would show up, I asked off from work and spent eight hours fasting and praying in front of the clinic. It was a Friday—an abortion day at our clinic. It was a spiritual eye-opening day for many reasons. A few weeks later, Rebekah accompanied my son on a field trip freeing me up to leave for work early if I wanted to. I decided to leave the house at 5 AM, in 47 degree weather and stood outside the mill for 2 ½ hours before work. Once again I felt blessed to have an opportunity to be a witness for hope.

            Two days ago I got word that since the beginning of our 40 Days for Life campaign at the end of September the abortion numbers dropped by 70%. Yesterday I heard that the Friday numbers were just as abysmal, and the clinic workers left very frustrated. With the expense of an abortionist flying in every week from Philly, and the profits dwindling I believe we are only weeks away from the clinic closing its doors. To God be the Glory!

            I firmly believe that God is going to do great things, and all He asks us to do is be faithful with the little things.