Seth & Aubrie Drayer

Dunkirk , a newly released WWII film, opens with 400,000 Allied soldiers stranded on a beach—beyond the saving reach of British destroyer vessels because of shallow waters—with the enemy strangling from all sides. The film details the soldiers’ struggle for survival, but in a pivotal scene, the true story takes a sharp turn as hundreds of unexpected ships appear on the horizon. Surprised, the navy commander responsible for the painstakingly slow shuttling of soldiers off of the beach raises binoculars. What he sees is one of the most remarkable rescue efforts of the 20th century. In this hour of great need, a call had gone out for ships without the depth restrictions of the destroyers. In response, about 850 private boats sailed across the Channel from England to France to bring their boys home. As my colleagues and I watched the film together, I was transfixed by this scene portraying the “little ships of Dunkirk.” Entering the war zone on these boats, putting their lives a...

If you were to stumble into the Created Equal training center this summer, you would find an interesting sight: an Ivy League graduate seated next to a high school senior, a vegan student enjoying a salad next to another savoring a hamburger, and hands shooting into the air or sudden applause as all passionately defend their position on a range of philosophical matters. This eclectic scene is Created Equal’s internship. At the beginning of the summer, our latest band of interns arrived with the usual awkwardness felt at the beginning of a school term. But what has united them over the past couple of months is far greater than the happenstance of selecting the same college course. Indeed it is deeper than shared conviction. Over the past two months, they’ve celebrated victories both intimate and public—from hearing a mother outside Planned Parenthood say she has changed her mind to watching the Ohio Senate pass the Dismemberment Abortion Ban. They’ve grappled in our classroom...

“This is fifty-five years old talking how the Lord kept me when I didn’t want to keep myself . . . I’m a hallelujah chick, and I ain’t ashamed of that.” The only evidence that Lucy, the woman sharing this spoken word poetry on the street of Cleveland, OH, was telling the truth about her age was a dusting of gray in her hair. Her tone was bright, her words infused with passion, and—perhaps most surprisingly—her laugh carried not a note of irony or exhaustion in spite of a story marked by pain. I encountered Lucy while on a mission to encourage the Justice Riders . It was the middle of the week, when the hours start to drag and conversations trend toward stale soundbites. The last Rider I planned to check in on was Megan Smith, a veteran Rider who’s also been an intern on our team. Approaching Megan, I saw her in earnest conversation. When I attempted to take a picture, the woman talking with Megan did not, like many others simply ignore me. She instantly called me out. “Wha...

“Is biological evolution a fact?” This question, hurled downward by a professor strutting up the stairs of a tiered classroom at Purdue University, briefly made me wonder whether I’d stumbled into the wrong lecture hall. Aubrie and I had returned to Purdue three years after my debate with Dr. Ralph Webb , Professor of Communications, for a new faceoff—this time with Dr. David Sanders, Associate Professor of Biology. Bracing myself for a discussion this time grounded in hard science, Aubrie and I invested hours drilling through issues I predicted Sanders might address. But as soon as cross-examination began, I realized this event—while boasting theatrical flair I’ve not seen in other formal debates, from Dr. Sanders’s signature hat to his style of circling the room and sitting down next to students while speaking—reflected the same elevation of ideology over fact we’ve seen countless times before. Dr. Sanders argued that macro-evolution—which we have not observed—is a pro...

Renewed Urgency: #PPSellsBabyParts “How’s your Justice Ride going? Save any babies?” I paused, phone pressed against my ear, before replying, “Yeah, Adia, I think so.” She didn’t miss a beat. “How many? Four? Five? Six?” I smiled. With Adia’s understanding of our family ministry come high expectations. But as I considered our Justice Ride team pulled from across the country to create conversation in the nation’s capital, I knew the fruit from this trip would be far more than the lives saved during our time on the road. Not only were we equipping our Riders to take the apologetics and tools back home with them as usual, but this time we had been given a unique opportunity to play a role in a national story still unfolding as I write this. On Day 2 of the Ride , the Center for Medical Progress released video evidence that Planned Parenthood (PP) sells baby body parts for profit. While we should not be surprised that an organization reaping funds from the kil...

“I love what you guys are doing,” the man said.  I paused, confused. While we do often meet members of the public who agree with what we do, I did not expect it from this man—because he had just exited an abortion facility. Before I could say another word, he said, “I want to keep it,” and suddenly it all made sense.  I asked the young father what was preventing him from keeping his baby, and he responded that it wasn’t his choice. He said he and his girlfriend had just had another baby a couple of months before and that he’d advocated for adoption. But, pointing to Founder’s Women’s Health Center—a Columbus, OH abortion center—he said, “This is her option right here.” Mark Harrington’s wife Paula, who was also counseling, asked if his girlfriend was depressed. He answered affirmatively. She said the abortion could add to her depression, and he said, “I believe it. It’s got me depressed already.” We encouraged him to act, provided multiple resources, offered to wal...

“That demon laughed and increased the suction. My baby wouldn't come.” My eyes flitted to the brick edifice behind the woman, where other parents’ babies were being killed as she spoke. She continued, “He went inside with a scalpel. He cut him up. And he came out in two pieces. Then afterwards, they said, ‘You want Kool-Aid or cookies?’” Thirty years after her abortion, this mother continued to grieve. But the long winter of her pain found joy on a spring morning when she returned to rescue the life of another from the same man who’d dismembered her baby. She’d been passing by Founder’s Women’s Health Center in Columbus when she saw our team with signs showing abortion victims. One sign in particular caught her eye. It read, “Dr. Blank Kills Children.” She remembered that man and stopped to tell us of her encounter with him decades prior. As she was sharing her story, a couple with whom I had spoken earlier came out of the abortion facility to sit in their car. Seeing them...