11BabyI never really understood the story of Rip Van Winkle — until recently, that is. It seems the more I look around, the less I recognize. It’s not that progress or change bothers me. In fact, I’m a huge fan of many things new and emerging. But I’ve come to regret some of the things we choose to abandon — namely values.

Back to Van Winkle. When he awakens on a mountain after a 20-year nap, he discovers shocking changes: his musket is rotting and rusty, his beard is a foot long, and his dog is nowhere to be found.

He returns to his village, where he recognizes no one. He arrives just after an election, and people ask how he voted. Never having cast a ballot in his life, he proclaims himself a faithful subject of King George III, unaware that the American Revolution has taken place. He nearly gets himself into trouble with the townspeople until one elderly woman recognizes him as the long-lost Rip Van Winkle.

When it comes to music, entertainment and even transportation, I’m completely on board with the changes. I like the new. I like the path we’re taking, and I can still enjoy the fruits of a harvest gone by without bothering anyone else with my sense of melancholy.

Technology? A little different, but I am usually quick to embrace the latest and keep my eyes peeled for whatever is coming over the horizon. It’s just that the devices we used before become more quickly obsolete.

Then we come to values. I can’t really discuss values without mentioning how closely aligned they are with the morals I live by. Those morals come from the Bible. Love God. Love others more than you do yourself. Do justice, love mercy and walk humbly. These are not catch phrases to me. They are the basis for the moral code I feel we’ve begun to abandon.

On a recent Sunday, I found myself having insults bounced off me while I was saluted with a single finger more than once by numerous passers-by. My offense? Holding a sign that simply read, “Pray to end abortion.” Four words. I didn’t speak a word. I didn’t confront anyone. I wasn’t blocking an entrance or a roadway. I was just standing on the public right of way near a closed clinic at which abortions are offered.

On one side of me was a couple who adopted a beautiful little girl from a young, unexpectedly pregnant mother who had previously considered abortion. On my other side were a couple of young women who had had abortions and who hoped to dissuade others from taking a similar path. They knew the heartache and regret it caused and wanted to intercede on other women’s behalf.

After a 20-year career standing in the gap for the defenseless as a soldier, standing in a similar way for the unborn is somewhat natural for me. It’s how I pray. It’s how I think. It’s one way I place value on others more than myself. When I observe our legislators considering whether a child in the third trimester of gestation is worthy of drawing its first — or second — breath outside the womb, I am grieved at what we’ve abandoned.

Our culture lines up for programs promising a better future for children while granting legal access to murder of the very children who could have taken part in that future.