From Mission Work to Motherhood

Final Reflection and a Thank You!

Hello Reader,

Writing this final newsletter is bittersweet for me. On one hand, I feel deep joy as I transition from my work with Justice For All (JFA) to focus on my new vocation as wife and mother. On the other, there is a tender sorrow in saying goodbye to a ministry that has meant so much to me over these past four years. Before I go, I want to share with you a few of my favorite memories, campus outreach stories, and lessons from this season of my life. These are experiences you helped make possible through your generous financial support and prayer.

Stone Hearts Can Still Soften

A question I am often asked is, “What was your most difficult conversation?” Immediately, an interaction I had during my first semester with JFA comes to mind. My team had set up our exhibit at the University of Texas, San Antonio. That chilly fall day started out as usual: students were generally very pro-choice, but they weren’t hassling us. Then three young, ornery women showed up and, as some might say, “all hell broke loose.”

My teammate Bella and I started to get screamed at, cursed at, insulted, and accused of being brainwashed by old, white, religious men. A crowd swiftly formed around us. Our typical one-on-one conversations were overtaken by a mob that felt like a pack of hyenas closing in on us. As much as Bella and I tried to find common ground with these women, nothing helped. They kept twisting our words, interpreting them in the worst light possible, and laughing at us. It was like the worst comment section of a political social media page was being projected in front of us in real time.

After nearly an hour of putting up with all of this, we finally decided enough was enough. I excused myself from the conversation, feeling humiliated, as if walking away meant I had failed. But what happened next was unexpected.

While the main perpetrators of the harassment continued to mock our team, several students who were quietly watching from the edges started following me. Some approached me to say, “I am pro-choice and don’t agree with your perspective, but I just wanted to say that I am really sorry for how those girls treated you.” Some asked me if we could talk, assuring me they wanted an actual conversation, not a shouting match.

One young woman opened up about her own journey. She told me that a few years earlier, she would have been yelling right alongside those angry women. But during the pandemic, she began researching controversial issues on her own. Over time, she discovered that the pro-life view wasn’t the crazy caricature she had grown up hearing. Listening to her, I felt a surge of hope. While the angry women behind me continued to spew venom with their words, in front of me stood a woman who showed that it was possible for the hardest of hearts to soften. But that change didn’t happen overnight, much less during a single conversation. It was through carefully planted seeds. I was encouraged to receive confirmation that even in the conversations where I didn’t witness a change of mind or even a slight shift in perspective, I could be confident that God is still laboring in the field, preparing their hearts for harvest.

“You Have Just Changed My Life!”

One of the most stunning parts of ministry with JFA is that, although our mission is to change minds about abortion, there are moments when God allows us to witness something even deeper: He lets us be vessels to change lives. During an unforgettable encounter I had in 2022, I experienced one of those moments. I was at Texas State standing by our outreach table which asked the question, “Should abortion be legal?” Students could sign “yes” or “no.”

A male student approached me and started venting his feelings about abortion. He was pro-life. I agreed with him that abortion is an injustice and tried to give him some encouragement. Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a female student standing by the “yes” side of the poll table. I could feel her staring at me. In an attempt to prevent her from mishearing something I said to the pro-life student, I started to become more careful with my words.

Eventually, she made her way over to me. I asked her what her thoughts were on the issue. Gently, she said, “I don’t like abortion, but I think it needs to be legal because kids will suffer in foster care.” While this is a common objection I hear on college campuses, with this student it was different. By the time she finished her sentence, tears were streaming down her face.

I quickly invited her to join me on a bench on the periphery of the exhibit so we could have a private conversation. She accepted. Then I asked her to share more about her concern since it clearly weighed heavily on her heart. “When I was in middle school,” she told me, “my friend died in foster care.”

Immediately, I knew I had to set aside my agenda to fully focus on what she had just said. It was clear that what this student needed in that moment was not a pro-life argument; she needed a friend. I began asking more questions about her story, trying to get a better understanding of who she was. She shared about being an education major, how she loves kids, and that she hopes to be a stay-at-home-mom one day. We bonded over this great common ground.

At one point, I had casually mentioned that I am Catholic. Right away, her ears perked up. “What does your faith mean to you?” she asked. I must admit this was a question I had never been asked before, and as a result, I had not taken the time to think deeply about how I would answer it. But it deserved an answer, so I gave it my best shot. I started sharing about my faith journey—how I wasn’t living faithfully for God at the start of college, and how I found my way back by the end. I told her about a moment I had at a FOCUS Seek conference in 2018 where I was struck by the realization that everyone attending seemed to know who Jesus was, but I only knew His name. That conference was a turning point for me. I kept talking (perhaps longer than I should have) about how my faith brings me hope, how Jesus is the foundation for that hope, as well as evidence for the resurrection. Did she solicit evidence for the resurrection? No. Oh no, I thought. I must have bored her to death by my lengthy ramblings.

When I looked up at her, I expected to catch her with her eyes glazed over. To my surprise, tears were streaming down her face again. “No one has ever talked to me about Jesus like that before… you have just changed my life!” she said.

On a whim, I asked, “Would you be open to praying with me right now?” She said yes, so we prayed. Then I asked, “Would you be open to keeping in touch and doing a Bible study with me?” She said yes. There was one problem: I lived in Kansas, and she lived in Texas. So we agreed that we would meet over Zoom. “Do you have a Bible?” I asked. “No,” she replied. At the end of our conversation, I was able to get her mailing address so I could send her a Bible and a Catechism. By the time we met for our first Bible study Zoom meeting about a week later, she had already read around 200 paragraphs of the Catechism.

After a couple of months, I helped connect her to the Newman Center on her campus, where she joined an in-person Bible study with her peers. A little over a year later, she reached out to me on Instagram to share the sweetest life update about how her newfound faith had changed everything for her and that she would be entering the Church at the Easter Vigil in 2024. Thanks be to God!

By no means did I feel equipped to so explicitly share about Jesus with a stranger. I always feared that I would come across as weird or “one of those religious freaks.” But I was seriously humbled and will always remember this story when those fears inevitably resurface in the future. I suspect you may have similar fears, but we as Christians are commanded to be not afraid! You do not need to be perfect in speech. You just need to give it your all with a sincere heart.

Everybody Knows Somebody

Throughout my time on college campuses, I have met countless men and women who have opened up to me about their past abortion experiences. Some appeared more affected than others, but I am convinced that all of them still carry the pain with them, even if it’s masked with a smile. One post-abortive administrator I spoke with at California State University, San Marcos described her decision as a positive experience with no regrets. I gently mentioned to her that many women report increased anxiety, depression, flashbacks, nightmares, eating disorders, substance abuse, and even suicidal thoughts at some point after their abortion. I also shared that healing resources exist for women who are struggling and asked if she’d like information. In spite of her earlier comments, she accepted the resource. Her response leads me to wonder how many other post-abortive men and women are struggling in secret, even though they claim to be fine.

By one estimate, about one in four women in the U.S. will have an abortion in their lifetime (see jfaweb.org/one-in-four). Naturally, countless men have lost a child to abortion, too. Tragically, that number does not look much better for those with religious affiliation. About one in four abortion recipients are Catholic, and the number for Christians in general is not far behind (see jfaweb.org/facts#religious-affiliation). What this means is that, statistically, everybody knows somebody who has had an abortion. He or she may sit next to you in the pews every Sunday. This person may be your sister, someone you dated, or a dear friend. Perhaps this person is you.

Whoever this person is, he or she desperately needs to hear about the hope available through post-abortion resources and, most importantly, Jesus. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share these resources with some of these men and women. If you know someone who has lost a child to abortion, I encourage you to share resources with them, too. Learn about some practical resources JFA recommends here: jfaweb.org/healing.

Changing Hearts Changes Your Own Heart

When I began mission work with JFA, my hope was of course to help unborn children by changing hearts and minds. What I didn’t realize was how God would use this mission to change me. Looking back at all the knowledge I believed I already had about the pro-choice mindset, the wide range of worldviews people hold, and how to measure the success of a conversation, it’s almost laughable. My intentions were sincere, but I was nowhere near as wise or prepared as I imagined.

The emphasis JFA placed on listening—not to refute people, but to truly understand them—became a pivotal shift in how I approached conversations. I learned that it’s okay to let someone speak for five uninterrupted minutes about why they support abortion, why they walked away from Christianity, or why they hate the Catholic Church. These topics absolutely matter, but sometimes the most helpful response is not to rush into defensive “apologetics mode.”

Even if someone walks away before I can offer a single thought, that doesn’t mean the moment was wasted. I once encountered a young woman who talked at length about why she was pro-choice and then suddenly said she needed to leave. I had barely spoken, yet she thanked me for the “great conversation.” What she really meant, I believe, was, “I know you disagree with me, but thank you for listening. I’m not used to that.”

To be clear, sharing and defending truth matters. As Christians, we shouldn’t shy away from that. But there is a time and place for every kind of witness. The weight of the world isn’t ours to carry. Jesus already lifted it onto His shoulders. When we enter conversations convinced we must prove someone wrong at all costs or else disastrous, uncontrollable consequences will unfold, we’ve already missed the point. God does not need us to win arguments. He needs us to be faithful, to stay close to Him, and to trust what He is doing in every interaction, even when our part seems small. Our quiet presence might be the necessary first step for this person to become open to a second conversation that goes even deeper.

There are other stories I could share in which someone’s mind changed during our single conversation, but surprisingly, I believe the most important ones are those that show the waiting, because they challenge our faith. Most of the time, visible results do not occur within twenty minutes. This is fitting when we look to Sacred Scripture and see that the greatest story of all time took thousands of years to unfold! The journey of patience and remaining hopeful is ultimately more rewarding (and better for our souls) than the instant gratification of witnessing a fruitful harvest.

JFA has not only helped me become a better communicator and listener; it has also prepared me, I hope, to be a better parent. Hearing the stories of why so many students left the faith in which they were raised or how they felt their parents never truly listened, has opened my eyes to the profound cultural and moral deficits shaping my generation. Today’s young people are no longer satisfied with accepting truth simply because it’s apparently common sense or tradition. They want to know the basement-level why. Why should I believe God exists? Why should a single-celled zygote be considered valuable? Why should sex have boundaries and belong within marriage? Why do my parents speak as though they’re certain about things I’m told we can never know for sure?

These questions deserve thoughtful, reasoned answers, but I’m convinced they also demand something that I would argue brings about a longer lasting change in someone’s life: the steady, gentle presence of an adult who is willing to truly listen. I’ve heard all sorts of unusual ideas from students about what makes something right or wrong—and whether right and wrong even exist at all. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have an answer to every challenge someone brings to me. But I do know this: when my own children come to me one day with a tough question, and I don’t have the answer, I’ll remember these years of outreach. I’ll remember that it’s okay to wrestle with the question alongside them. I don’t need to invent an answer or pretend to know everything. I’ll remember that it’s okay to let go of control and let God take care of it for me in His time.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping me grow as a Christian. Thank you for helping me train pro-life advocates to have more productive conversations about abortion with their friends and peers. This season will never be forgotten. I hope you will carry these stories in your heart, too.

For the unborn and their parents,

Kristina Churchman