Sunday marked the 39th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court decision that legally sanction the nearly 54 million abortions performed since 1973.

President Barack Obama released a statement lauding the historic decision as protecting not only women’s rights but promoting a broader principle that government should not intervene in private, family matters.

But I don’t want to write about abortion, but I must.

I am not alone in this struggle, so I do not think I can rightly be called narcissistic or egotistical for sharing about it. I do not share because I believe myself to be important but rather because I think the issue is. Also, I hope by weighing this confession, you better understand the dynamics of the abortion dialogue around you, since understanding is a part of loving.

Now on to it, and please be patient as I have to give a bit of background first.

I am a Christian, which means that I have given up my life to follow Jesus, whom I trust in as the loving son of God who was crucified and rose again for us all.

One of the things he commands his followers is that they teach others to follow him. “Others” includes you, which means I want you to come to know and be known by him.

But, as Dallas Willard writes, in our world today, “Presumed familiarity [with Jesus] has led to unfamiliarity, unfamiliarity has led to contempt and contempt has led to profound ignorance.”

So one of my concerns with writing and talking to others is to eliminate contempt they might have toward Jesus. A problem arises, though, when I attempt to do this by pandering to people’s particular worldviews. I lose sight of Jesus and, instead of presenting him as he is, try to present myself as a likeable, cool, smart and even philosophical guy.

I become leery of stepping on anyone’s toes and try to distance myself from the mocked and mulish stereotyped fundamentalist.

This means that sometimes, I really do not want to write about abortion; it makes Jesus and Christianity even less palatable than they already are. Why not write about the milieu of other social ills we all agree must be rectified, like human trafficking, genocide, racism or dirty campaigns?

If I only focus on those issues — and they do need to be addressed — I can keep my gaze straight ahead and not glimpse the burden behind me, a looming mountain of silent screams. After all, Jesus said not to look back once the hand is on the plow. And many of us remember what happened to Lot’s wife. Could it be better to avoid mention of that dark mountain?

Ah, but there, I’ve already acknowledged it. The screams have reached my ears, the voice of my unborn brothers’ blood cries out from the ground. And I’m a pillar of salt. For now I know, and knowing demands response.

As Jesus’ brother, James, wrote: “Whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”

The same Christianity that prompts me to love and understand those around me, and therefore identify with them in a meaningful way, also stands in unequivocal opposition to the practice of human abortion and demands that I do something about it.

And writing is not enough. This is another reason I don’t want to write about abortion: because I am consciously aware, even while typing, that writing can only be a beginning, a first step toward the mountain that’s gravity increases the nearer I get, demanding more contrition and action.

Since I’ve written, I must pray, speak, preach if I can, maybe picket, adopt, support, get arrested and God knows what else short of violence.

All these things rub against my desire to appeal to my peers, but I think it is better that way. That desire, after all, grows from a conviction that I must introduce people to Jesus, but in presenting him, I need to show him as he is without censoring unpopular parts of the Bible’s teaching.

So, even though I don’t want to write about abortion, I know I have to, and I trust that this will work out; that honesty is better than improvising; that loving people means more than appealing to them and that loving Jesus is shown — in part — by actually obeying him.

Trevor Clark is a professional writing senior.