Gerrit Van Dorland

Miracles

By Gerrit Van Dorland

I put the van in drive and turned my left signal on. Checking my blind spot before merging into traffic, I catch one last glimpse of the red brick building with white pillars. There is nothing unordinary about the building. It could pass for a typical American bungalow. To the right side of the building, a small green, rectangular sign reads: Orlando Women’s Center. I forced my attention back to the road. The rain patters lightly on the windshield and music plays softly in the background. I look in my rear-view mirror—everyone is lost in thought, deeply affected by what we had just seen. I drive on, supressing the emotions that well up. I turn the music up somewhat.

File 4100

In this time of fear

I'll never know

By Gerrit Van Dorland

Note to self: It's not about me

By Gerrit Van Dorland

Unity: Our best shot at fortification

By Gerrit Van Dorland

Meet our interns: Gerrit Van Dorland

What motivated you to join the pro-life movement? What continues to motivate you?

The reality that a mass genocide is occurring in our nation.  Over 3 million children have been gruesomely cut off from life in Canada alone since the legalization of abortion in 1969. Currently more people are working in clinics and promoting abortion, then those working to oppose it. No group of victims can be labelled as innocent, as vulnerable, and as voiceless as the pre-born, so the question we’re all held accountable for is: Who will stand for them? If not me, then who?

Gerrit’s Story: How Changing Minds Changed Me, Too

By Gerrit Van Dorland

“Hello, what do you think of our display?”

A young guy with a skater-boy swag stopped and pulled off his headsets. “What’s that?” he said, as I watched his expression twist at the sight of our board with the graphic image of an abortion at 10 weeks.

“I’m Gerrit, and I’m just wondering if you had any thoughts on our display,” I repeated, handing him a brochure. Contrary to many other students, James (not his real name) was civil enough to stop and reply.

“I think they’re disgusting, and I’ve no idea why you would want to stand in front of that all day.” He was right—the images were repulsive, and standing in front of them all day was not what a typical reading week getaway to Florida consisted of.

File 3069

 
Syndicate content