I am writing this on July 7, 2009. The day the earth stopped (or so it seemed) to watch Michael Jackson's funeral. A sad, untimely death for one so talented and still young.
As I watched a little bit of the coverage (a little bit is honestly all I could stand) I couldn't help but think of another death just as tragic and just as untimely and sad as Jackson's. But in the case of the latter, there is no round-the-clock coverage. There is no one that even knows really except for a very small amount of people.
In the case of the latter, this one's demise did not come because of shady medical practices or a longing to stay addicted to medications. The death of this other unknown person came about very intentionally when a young woman entered a clinic labeled "Planned Parenthood" on the outside and she willingly, knowingly ended the life of her own child.
There are no tributes. In fact, this child isn't even named (by the mother, at least, but the child has been named by Father God). This child is not given a funeral. The "body" (it isn't even allowed to be called that) is simply discarded as garbage.
No one speaks about the life lost. No one even dares mention it.
But here's the thing this unknown baby and Michael Jackson have in common. They both went to Jesus. The king of pop met the King of Kings. And this unnamed infant found itself in a very sure and certain future in heaven with Jesus. And Michael Jackson found himself standing before the Righteous Judge having to give an account for his life.
On this day, where so many are so focused on the death of one. I can't help but think about the death of so many and no one seems to care.
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