A New Kind of Quiet Time

As Christians we talk about having a “quiet time” with the Lord, but what is that really? For some it simply means setting aside time to be with God, to pray, read His word and draw closer to Him than we had been previously. Recently however, the term “quiet time” took on a whole new meaning for me as I participated for the first time in a silent siege against abortion in the city of Atlanta.

I have known for some time now that members of the IHOP-Atlanta community had participated in these sieges, but it wasn’t until recently that I decided it was time that I too take my stand. I guess the decision came as a result of things which happened at work. I was given two new referrals of children and after reading their case histories I discovered a common theme; both had close members of their family murdered. One little girl had a father who had been murdered by her own mother and then there was another little boy whose two year old sister had been drown by a four year old neighbor. I woke up Friday morning before the siege realizing that this spirit of murder was not something I could take on in a therapy session, but the matter could only be dealt with through the power of prayer. I recognized that a covenant of death did indeed hover over our city and it not only affects the unborn, but the innocent children who have been given life. God, have mercy.

So on a crisp Saturday morning in October, there I was walking across the street to join a host of others already standing in a line facing an abortion clinic and praying silently. I took the four inch red piece of tape with the word “LIFE” written on it and placed it over my mouth. Instantly I was made aware that its placement meant for the next two hours I would not be able to utter a single word but would enter instead into a silent realm of dialoguing with my Heavenly Father. I would not speak but would cry out in silent intercession for those who have no voice. The following are my reflections of this “quiet time” with Him...

At first I set my focus on praying for the women and their escorts who I observed walking into the building. I pleaded with God for Divine intervention. Yet my attention was quickly diverted to the protestors on the opposite side. I prayed for their salvation and their eyes to be opened to the truth of what abortion is - murder. I prayed for hearts to be softened. Soon I heard the honk of a car and saw through the window driving by a woman making a gesture with her middle finger. Disappointed, I found myself even more determined to press in through prayer. I began to focus on a scripture which God had given me many years before - Isaiah 60:18. “No longer will violence be heard in your land”. This became my prayer focus. I began praying for God to remove violence from our city, that this would no longer be the sound heard in Atlanta.

After meditating and praying this phrase for a while, I began to hear the Lord speak to me. “What do you want to hear instead?” He asked. I then began to prophesy. “Let peace be heard. Let truth be heard. Let the sound of babies crying be heard as they are BORN into this world.” I then heard in my spirit a portion of a Passion song and sang it over and over again until joy filled my heart. “The sound of salvation comes, the sound of rescued ones and all this for a King”. As a result, a prayer arose from within –God, let the sound of rescued ones be heard, those saved from the flames of death. My prayer language was awakened as I considered Colossians 1:13, “He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the Kingdom of the Son he loves, in who we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” God forgive us; forgive the sins of this nation for we know not what we do.

Suddenly a woman dressed in fatigues and combat boots crossed the street and held up a sign in front of the line of silent intercessors - “Eric Rudolph’s Fan Club”. The spirit of mockery made its presence known, yet I focused on Matthew 5: 10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom”. Lord, have mercy on her soul. More cars drive by and honk, some in support of those praying and some not. I watch as more protestors come and join those already standing on the sidewalk. I begin to feel the pain of standing and notice the toll my feet take as the sidewalk I stand on is not flat but on a slant. I then kneel and consider the verse “If my people who are called by name will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will HEAL their land.” Lord, heal our land.

The sun beats down on my face and I can feel sweat begin to form around my mouth underneath the tape. I remove my jacket and another woman comes out of the clinic with a slight limp and is escorted by what I can only presume to be her boyfriend. She climbs into the car and they drive off. Anguish. Another abortion was just committed. Oh God, have mercy. I plead the blood over her and her boyfriend. I then plead the blood of Jesus over the entire building and focus in again on Isaiah 60:18. Again, I prophesy. “Your walls will be salvation”. I declare this repeatedly and each time with more conviction. “Your walls will be salvation”. I pray this physical building will one day be transformed into a place of salvation for others, for God to redeem this place.

Soon the level of warfare increases as a new measure of distraction occurs. The Catholic prayer counselors come right behind the protestors and pray their rosaries aloud. The verbal bantering begins and one can’t help but notice the animosity. Yet again I turn my eyes to the clinic and begin to declare the latter part of Isaiah 60:18 “Your gates shall be praise”. I sing, I praise, and I worship the Lord who is sovereign above all. I focus my gaze on the doors of the clinic and declare that the door to death will be closed and the doors of life will be opened. I declare salvation and pray for the sound of rescued ones to be heard.

Shortly thereafter, another woman is found to be slightly limping out of the clinic escorted by her mother. Counselors attempt to express their concern while protestors holler along side them “Mind your own business, mind your own business”. The sight makes me grievous inside. Oh God, another child died today. I ponder the reality of these children being rejected in the most ultimate way, rejected before birth. Everyday I go to work and witness firsthand what unwanted children go through. I see in the natural how rejection impacts these children’s lives yet am quickly reminded of Psalm 27:10 “Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me”. I then begin to intercede on behalf of the millions of unwanted children in this nation. My heart turns to the ones I know personally at my job, and soon a deep groan overtakes me, I so want to groan aloud but once again am made aware of the tape over my mouth. The pain overwhelms me and I short-circuit emotionally for there is no denying this pain. Slowly tears well up in my eyes. As they fall and cascade down my face, my heart cries out for a double portion of mothers and fathers to be raised up. I make my petitions known before God continually, crying out for the spirit of adoption to come. I then sense the presence of God in a new way. I feel His tears for the children; the unwanted ones that He so longs for, the abused and broken ones rejected by their parents, the ones that are orphaned. JESUS!!!!!

My tears begin to seep through the cracks in my tape and I begin to taste their salt in the corners of my mouth. I consider the truth that for these tears Christ died and so these children. I consider the fact that every tear I cry God collects in His bottle, they are near and dear to His heart. How much more are these children precious to Him?

Soon traffic picks up and more people are seen coming and going from the clinic. I realize this is a battle that must never cease until victory is won. At the noon hour, the group breaks formation and meets under a tree to share what God revealed to our hearts personally during this time. One girl shares how she felt impressed to pray for abused children, that they are all around us and I could not agree more. Another shares that this month is the nine month mark of interceding at this location and there is a certain expectation she feels that God is at work. Another shares that we are not to give up but will see this clinic turned into a memorial for God’s glory. Even so Lord, come.

I remove the tape from my mouth and when I do, literal sweat and tears still remain on my face. I confirm to myself that this has been a most strategic time and a wise use of my Saturday morning. I acknowledge this has truly been a most amazing “quiet time” with the Lord that I have experienced in a long time. For I am confident of this - God’s blood has been added to my sweat and tears and as such produce a Greater Glory than I shall ever know.

                                                                                                                                                Wendee Van Order