Porn taught you sex was recreation. The clinic is where you pay for that lie. I'm 44. Got married at 21. Had our first kid nine months later because we knew what we were doing. Five kids total. My wife was pregnant for 8 years of our marriage. We hit the food bank so many times the lady started calling us by name. Pawned my tools twice. Drove a van with no AC in Montana summers and no heat that actually worked in the winters. We chose that. On purpose. Here's what nobody wants to say: Abortion doesn't start at the clinic. It starts in a bedroom with a guy who learned about sex from a screen. Who thinks it's entertainment. Stress relief. Something you do because you're bored and she said yes. Nobody told him his body was designed to make people. Not sometimes. Not accidentally. That's the whole point of the equipment. The baby isn't the accident. His orgasm was. I found my dad's magazines when I was 12. Thought I understood women by 16. I understood nothing. I understood pixels and fantasy and a version of sex that doesn't exist anywhere outside a camera setup in the San Fernando Valley. I got lucky. Married a woman who wanted children more than she wanted comfort. We both did. But most guys? They got the same magazines. The same screens. The same lie. And now they're standing in clinic parking lots wondering how recreation made a person. Every abortion has a man attached to it. A man who said "I'm not ready" like readiness is a feeling and not a decision. A man who disappeared. Literally. Or just went quiet and let her do the math alone. A man who wanted the pleasure but not the weight. Pro-life starts with your zipper. With teaching your sons that sex makes people and that's not a bug in the system — that's the system. My oldest son is 21. Got married at 20. His wife went into labor at 24 weeks. Blake came out at 1 lb 15 oz. Died twice on the table. Came back twice. Six months old now. Still on oxygen. Still smaller than the other babies. Still here. I look at him and I think about all the math that didn't get done. All the choices that got made before he existed that meant he would exist. My wife and I chose poverty at 21. My son and his wife chose to fight at 24 weeks. Blake chose to keep breathing. Choices all the way down. Not accidents. Porn taught an entire generation that sex is content. Entertainment. Something you consume. Then they're shocked when consumption creates a person. You want to be pro-life? Kill the lie first. Sex isn't recreation. It's creation. Your body knows this even if your browser history doesn't.

The congregation doesn't need your coffee joke. They buried someone this week. They're sitting in pews with divorce papers in their glovebox. Kids who won't speak to them. Test results they haven't opened. They drove past three churches to hear you say something that costs you something. So open the Book. Forget the illustration you found on Google. Skip the movie clip. Kill the countdown timer on your outline. Preach like a man possessed. Preach like you'll answer for every wasted syllable. Preach like their blood is on your hands. Because it is. The pulpit isn't a stage.