The day started simply enough. After driving my spouse Sheryl to pick up a car at the rental company for her work trip, I declared a sabbath day. This sabbath would involve a mystery novel and the necessary daily nap.

Before my nap, though, I needed to stop by the reproductive care clinic in Bellevue, Nebraska.

The founder of this clinic, Dr. George Tiller, had been shot twice. The second time, in 2009, he was killed in the foyer of his church. The killer was sentenced to 50 years in prison, but the sentence was later reduced to 25 years.

I drove past anti-choice protesters to greet four clinic escorts. I had been a clinic escort before and knew how dangerous and harrowing the work can be.

On this day, I was there because Sheryl and I had decided to organize a counterprotest after talking it over with the clinic staff. I marched up the steps to a foyer with bullet-proof glass and a tightly closed steel door protecting the receptionist. 

I introduced myself and told her I wanted to launch a counterprotest based on the principles of nonviolence espoused by Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi.

She seemed overly cautious and distrustful and asked for my driver’s license to be photocopied. I told her I had left my wallet in the car and would go get it. She bristled and said I would have to wait until the following Monday to reenter the building.

I asked her for an email address to write directly to the clinic operator. She refused and began to look actively hostile, so I left.

Walking back to my car, I went over to my friends who were clinic escorts. By this time, they had grown accustomed to me always coming in and thanking them if I happened to drive by. 

In Portland, Oregon, where I had once served as a clinic escort, the dividing line between clients and protesters was only 12 feet on each side of the entrance. 

We had to stay inside the forbidden zone, silently enduring shouts and threats. I once had to stand between a protester and a business owner from across the street who was angry about how loud the protests were becoming. 

It had taken me years of study and struggle before coming to believe that a woman’s right to make such a life-altering decision with her private physician about her body was a greater right than that of a fertilized ovum.

Just as I was about to leave the group, the hostile woman with whom I had interacted came down the stairs towards us. I believed she was about to tell me I could not talk to them and had to leave the protected zone immediately. As she arrived, the clinic escorts told her about me and my many visits.

She explained that my t-shirt caused her initial suspicion and hostility. When she saw the word “Jesus” on it, she immediately thought, based on her own experience as a clinic worker, that I must be an anti-choice spy. Relieved, I was also sad that the anti-choice voices were the only religious ones being heard.

I told her I understood her concern but also explained that many Christians were pro-choice. I offered to help organize more hopeful pro-choice protests in the future. 

I also offered Sheryl’s and my services to any client conflicted with what had been described to the receptionist as the “never ever” rule concerning abortion. Her face lit up.

As I left, I kept musing about my t-shirt, which had initially turned off the receptionist. The message did begin with the word “Jesus.” The entire message, however, read, “Jesus took naps. Be more like Jesus.”

Like Jesus, I was heading home eagerly anticipating my daily afternoon nap. But then I remembered that Jesus also overturned tables in Jerusalem.  

If you are tired, take a nap. But remember what it says in the Book of Revelation 3:15-16, addressed to Laodicea: “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm— neither hot nor cold— I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

It is clear that it is not time to be lukewarm in our current political and religious world. It is time, after your nap, to look around you and remember that Jesus overturned tables when they needed overturning.

So, yawn one last time, stretch your arms, and look around to see what tables the spirit is calling you to overturn.