Over the years, I’ve had countless conversations with conservative evangelical friends—some here in the United States, some back home in the Philippines—who sincerely believe that voting for Donald Trump and the Republican Party is the most faithful way to advance the pro‑life cause. Their conviction is real. Their desire to protect life is genuine. And I honor that.
But I’ve also noticed something else: many of these same friends have come to see abortion almost entirely through a political lens. The assumption is simple and deeply held: If we elect the right people, we will save more lives.
I understand the impulse. I, too, consider myself pro‑life, though with exceptions for rape, incest, and medically dangerous pregnancies. But I’ve never believed that political power alone can carry the moral weight of such a complex and deeply human issue.
A recent article in Christianity Today helped me understand why.
The piece examined abortion laws across the United States and found something striking: the strongest predictor of a state’s abortion policy is not how it votes, but how often its people attend church. States with high church attendance tend to have restrictive abortion laws. States with low attendance—even conservative ones—tend to protect abortion access.
The article’s conclusion was gentle but unmistakable:
Evangelicals may have unintentionally weakened the pro‑life movement by making it primarily political rather than spiritual.
One line in particular stayed with me:
“Ultimately, if pro-life Christians can share the gospel and increase the number of churchgoers in their regions, they might be able to do more lasting good for the pro-life cause than any purely political strategy could accomplish.”
That sentence captures something I’ve been sensing for years.
Politics cannot do the work of discipleship
Many of my MAGA‑aligned friends believe that political victories are the key to cultural transformation. But the data suggests the opposite: politics tends to follow formation, not create it. When church life is strong, people’s moral imagination is shaped long before they enter a voting booth. When church life is weak, political strategies collapse—even in states that vote overwhelmingly conservative.
This is why we’ve seen pro‑life ballot measures fail in places where Republicans win easily. The political identity is strong, but the spiritual formation is thin.
A movement built on outrage cannot sustain compassion
I’ve also noticed that when abortion becomes primarily a political weapon, something precious is lost. Compassion becomes conditional. Nuance becomes suspect. Exceptions—like rape, incest, or life‑threatening pregnancies—are dismissed as “compromise.” And the women at the center of these stories disappear behind slogans.
This is not the way of Christ.
The Jesus I follow—the Jesus who drew me into the evangelical movement in the first place—never reduced people to issues. He never used moral questions as political leverage. He formed people through presence, community, and love.
What if the real pro‑life work is quieter?
What if the most effective pro‑life witness is not a voting bloc but a community of people who embody the compassion of Christ?
What if the real work is:
- strengthening churches
- supporting mothers
- addressing poverty
- expanding healthcare
- reducing domestic violence
- building communities where children are welcomed, not feared
These are not partisan ideas. They are deeply Christian ones.
A word to my friends who care deeply about life
I know your heart. I know your sincerity. I know you want to protect the unborn. But I hope this article—and this reflection—opens a small window to a larger truth:
Political victories cannot replace spiritual formation.
Legislation cannot replace discipleship.
And no candidate, no matter how loudly they claim to be “pro‑life,” can do the work the church has neglected.
If we truly want to cultivate a culture of life, we must begin not at the ballot box but at the table, in the pews, in our neighborhoods, and in the quiet, unglamorous work of loving people well.
That is where lasting change begins.
And that is where the way of Christ still leads.
PENnED 
Leave a comment