Yes, I Went to the Mill on a Sunday

Over the past couple of months, the abortion clinic in Bristol, VA, has broadened its schedule to include Sundays, in addition to the regular Saturdays. They’ve hired a new killer who comes one or two weekends a month to brutally dismember and end the lives of innocent preborn children. This grim reality deeply burdened my heart, and my husband and I knew we couldn’t turn a blind eye.

When we found out about this change, we turned to prayer and sought guidance in God’s Word. We asked Him what we should do, knowing that Sunday is traditionally a day set apart for gathered worship and fellowship. Since being out at the clinic on Sundays, we’ve encountered a mixture of reactions. While many brothers and sisters in Christ have offered their prayers, encouragement, and support, others have questioned our choice. Those conversations have stretched us, deepened our convictions, and affirmed our reliance on God’s truth.

One common concern raised by those who disagreed was that being at the clinic on Sundays meant I was forsaking the church, neglecting fellowship, or even being unfaithful. But I believe there’s a misunderstanding of what it truly means to forsake the church. To forsake something implies abandonment, a turning away, or a lack of care. My decision to be at the clinic isn’t about abandoning the church—it’s about answering God’s call to obedience.

The truth is, the last place I want to be on a Sunday morning is standing alone in front of an abortion clinic, watching mother after mother pull into the parking lot to pay for her baby to be killed. Meanwhile, my family is sitting in church. This is not a choice made lightly, nor is it one I particularly enjoy. No one goes to these clinics because it’s easy or desirable. We go because we’re compelled by love for Christ and for those who cannot speak for themselves.

The call to be obedient to God doesn’t stop for Sunday. His commands to care for the orphan, to rescue those being led to slaughter, and to be a voice for the voiceless don’t come with an exemption for the Lord’s Day. Standing outside the clinic doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned the church, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’ve turned my back on my faith. On the contrary, it’s an extension of my faith—a way to live out the Gospel, even when it costs something.

This decision has involved sacrifices. Missing the gathering for worship and fellowship, even for one or two Sundays a month, is not something I take lightly. Yet, the call to stand for these precious, image-bearing children whose lives are at risk is one I cannot ignore. Although it’s hard to step away from the church, I believe God is leading me to this work. I trust He is using both my commitment to the body of Christ and my duty to be a voice for the voiceless to fulfill His will.

In fact, the Bible is clear about our responsibility to care for the least of these. Proverbs 24:11-12 tells us, “Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, ‘But we knew nothing about this,’ does not He who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not He who guards your life know it?” How can I, knowing the devastation taking place at the clinic, choose to stay silent when I have the chance to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ and speak out on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves?

This isn’t about choosing ministry over worship or replacing the church with works. It’s about living in obedience to God’s commands, balancing the priorities of worship, fellowship, and active ministry. I believe that Christ Himself modeled this balance perfectly. He often taught in synagogues and observed the Sabbath, yet He also stepped into places of brokenness to meet people where they were. He healed on the Sabbath, dined with sinners, and sought out the lost—because His mission was to glorify God and bring salvation to the world.

No one ministry fulfills every aspect of the Christian life. Just as the church is indispensable to the believer, so is the command to be a light in dark places. My presence at the clinic is not about me; it’s about pointing others to the hope found in Christ. It’s about offering mothers a chance to choose life for their babies and proclaiming the Gospel to a world steeped in sin and despair.

At the end of the day, my prayer is that God would be glorified in everything I do, whether that’s worshiping in the pew on a Sunday morning or standing outside a clinic pleading for life. Obedience to Him is what matters most, and His call to love our neighbor doesn’t pause for convenience or comfort. If even one life is saved, one soul pointed to Christ, or one seed planted for eternity, then every moment spent at the clinic is worth it.