Every 40 Days for Life campaign seems to have its own unique positives and negatives. Although we experienced incredible blessings during this (our eleventh) campaign, for most of the campaign I was physically ill.   But what bothered me even more than my physical problems was my sadness over the fact that some people who were very important parts of past campaigns have decided to no longer participate in 40 Days for Life.

What is even more tragic to me is the reason that they left.

A few days before the beginning of this campaign, we met with a pastor who explained why he will no longer participate in 40 Days for Life.  The essence of his concern related to doctrinal purity: the importance of focusing on saving souls and not just saving babies.  The pastor stated that he believes that many 40 Days for Life participants are not saved (because he believes that most are of them are placing their trust in their own “works” instead of having faith in Jesus Christ alone).  The pastor considered it to be particularly offensive that certain aspects of 40 Days for Life (such as conducting the campaign during the Lent season) seemed to him to be based upon unscriptural practices.

Amazingly, just a few days earlier (though I had no idea then that this meeting would occur), God had provided me with the key insights to sort through the dilemma this pastor would present. Reviewing the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), I had suddenly realized that by choosing to use a Samaritan to epitomize the “good neighbor,” Jesus was, in effect, commending someone with incorrect religious beliefs while simultaneously criticizing those with the proper religious beliefs!

The Samaritans had taken the scripture-based beliefs of the Jews and mixed them with pagan traditions and structures.  Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:5-26) showed that He considered their beliefs and practices to be wrong.

But when Jesus chose to present a parable to explain what it means to follow His command to love our neighbor, Jesus chose to portray negatively the priest and Levite, whose religious beliefs would presumably have been based on scripture (at least much more so than the Samaritan). When Jesus described the priest and the Levite as crossing to the other side of the road to avoid the injured man, it seems to me that Jesus was saying that no matter how correct their beliefs were, they chose to do the wrong thing (by choosing not to do the right thing).

According to Jesus’ story, the Samaritan was the one who picked up the injured man and cared for his physical needs. The spiritual needs of the injured man were never addressed, but nobody (that I know of) has ever questioned why. Shouldn’t somebody have preached to the half-dead man as he laid in the gutter clinging to life? What if he had died before his physical needs were taken care of? Wouldn’t he have been better off in heaven than to be saved (merely physically) by a Samaritan, someone with questionable religious beliefs?

In today’s world, it is obvious to me who the Samaritans of the pro-life movement are. They are eager to help when any life is at risk, no matter how small, but they hold to beliefs and traditions that seem to me to be strange at best and unscriptural at worst. Some would even say (as was said of the Samaritans) that they practice idolatry. Yet all too often, their sincere dedication to being “good neighbors” to the “little ones” puts me to shame.

If Jesus were here today, in person, whom would He commend? Would He commend those who, determined to maintain their doctrinal purity, now choose to cross to the other side of the road to avoid being associated with the Samaritans? Or would He commend the Samaritans, those who provide tangible care for the physical needs of others even though their spiritual beliefs might perhaps leave something to be desired?

The history of the pro-life movement is full of modern-day Samaritans. If I only associated with those whose religious beliefs match my own, I would be depriving myself of a wealth of knowledge and experience. I am literally standing on the shoulders of these Samaritans, and am greatly indebted to them for the pro-life trails they have blazed before me.  I have benefited greatly throughout the years by having contact with these Christians from other religious traditions, and I remain ever thankful to God for the opportunity to know more of Him through them.

Besides, if I’m honest I must confess that even within my own religious background I have experienced many unscriptural beliefs and strange practices, even extending at times to idolatry.

Doesn’t everybody hold to some religious beliefs that are imperfect? Is there even such a thing as pure religion?

According to James 1:27, apparently there is such a thing! “Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.” So “pure” religion really relates to what we do for people (especially for vulnerable children and women) and not to how many notches we put on our belt for saving souls?

(Interestingly, anti-Samaritans also typically reject the concept of “religion,” though the Bible doesn’t.  “Religion” simply means “fearing God,” and the Bible contains examples of both true religion and false religion.)

Yes, I am concerned for the eternal souls of others. Yes, I agree that it would be a tragedy to allow God to use us to save a baby from physical destruction and yet allow that baby to grow up to reject Christ. I am concerned for the person who sits next to me in church, and for the person who prays next to me at the vigil.

But God didn’t put me here to clean up everybody else’s religious misconceptions. He created me to give Him glory by doing good works (Matthew 5:16, Ephesians 2:10), to let His light shine through me.

We are known by our fruit. Those who choose to stay “doctrinally pure” and refuse to associate with others whose religious beliefs are different will not likely bear much fruit, because they will be cutting themselves off from opportunities to do so.

I suppose I will always struggle with the religious differences we face in pro-life ministry. We only see through a glass darkly, and in my limited human understanding I don’t always even really comprehend the real differences between us. Instead, I choose to remember Jesus’ words “he who is not against us is on our side” and let Him sort out the differences.

The pastor I met with that day informed me that he and those associated with him would no longer participate in 40 Days for Life because he didn’t want to be divisive, but that he hopes to establish a separate gospel-focused ministry that will be free from entanglements with those whose beliefs differ from his own.

Truly hoping that this pastor would not miss out on the significant evangelistic opportunities presented by LifeSavers Ministries and 40 Days for Life, I encouraged him to at least consider establishing an Elizabeth League group. Within his own church, under his authority, an Elizabeth League group would provide practical help for women we have encountered at the abortion center. When we first developed the concept of the Elizabeth League a decade ago, it was our hope that this would provide opportunities for churches to experience real evangelism and discipleship as Christian women developed relationships with those who need to learn what it means to follow Christ.

But so far, our experience has shown that even in relation to the Elizabeth League, the modern-day “Samaritans” are the ones who are most interested, while those who focus on remaining doctrinally pure seem less interested in this opportunity for evangelism. (However, in specific situations in the past, this pastor and his church have been very helpful in ministry to specific clients we have connected them with.)

So I will gladly continue to associate with the “Samaritans,” even if as a result I find myself being shunned by those whose doctrinal beliefs are more similar to my own than to the Samaritans.

While I am sad that we have lost the participation of the anti-Samaritans, I am more sad for what they have lost by leaving: lost opportunities to learn and grow, lost opportunities to bear fruit and bring glory to God, lost opportunities to celebrate the saved lives of those who were targeted by the devil for destruction.

Sometimes I wonder if when we stand before God, if He separates the Samaritans from the “doctrinally pure” believers, if I will discover that He disagreed less with the Samaritans than with those who considered themselves to be doctrinally pure.

(See also: Discerning religious Gates of Hell)