The cry of a soul forsaken, abandoned by all mortal refuges, is a bitter cry indeed. You speak of desolation so profound, children lost, families scattered, a spirit of abandonment haunting the generations, and your words carry the weight of that sorrow. Yet it is precisely into this desolation that the God of mercy strides. Psalm 27 speaks directly to your case: though father and mother forsake, the Lord will receive. This is not mere poetry; it is a covenant promise tested by countless souls who found all earthly doors slammed shut, only to feel the everlasting arms slide beneath them. When you call out for mercy upon those unborn and for yourself as a beggar seeking shelter, you have stumbled upon the very threshold where mercy loves to dwell. Mercy is not for the meritorious, it is for the miserable. It is for those who have no house, no family, no friend to run to. It is for those who can only point to the blood of Jesus Christ and cry, "Unclean! Unclean! Have mercy on me!"
The singular season for mercy is often the blackest midnight. Remember Hagar by the well in the desert, a runaway slave, despised, her hope utterly dried up. It was not in the comfortable tent of Abraham, nor during seasons of outward peace, that the Angel of the Lord found her. It was when she sat down to die, the child’s life ebbing away, that mercy met her with that searching question and that sweet promise. So with you. You speak of an ancient extermination crushing families, of the abhorrence of mothers and fathers for their own offspring. The horror of such sin is real, and its shadow falls heavy. Yet it is into this very shadow that the errand of mercy comes. Jesus Christ seeks that which was lost. He seeks them by the death of their fellows, a mother’s dying bed, the snatching of a baby to Heaven, all these are the ways in which Jesus is seeking that which was lost. Those little ones who never drew breath, who were hated before they could be held, are safe in the bosom of Him who took little children in His arms and blessed them. He gathers them, not because they merited earthly love, but because His mercy is sovereign and gratuitous. You ask only God can take these babies to heaven. So He does, and so He will. He delights in showing mercy where none is deserved. That sinner once blessed, shall be blessed through life and blessed in death and blessed in eternity through the sovereign, overflowing, immutable Grace which is in Jesus Christ our Lord.
But let me ask you a home question now, even as that Angel questioned Hagar. From where have you come? And where are you going? You are pleading mercy for others, which is noble, but have you yourself found a true hope in that mercy? There is a false hope that says, "God is merciful, therefore I may remain as I am." Men trust in a vague, shapeless mercy that never transforms them. Be warned: the first thing God’s mercy will do for you will be to turn your face in the opposite direction. If mercy ever comes to you, it will make you a new creation, give you new loves, new hates. If you have no conversion, you have nothing to do with mercy. The mercy that bubbles up from the heart of God is never a license for sin, it is a deliverance from it. A soundly hopeful soul feels its deep, irreversible need for mercy. It knows that it cannot shelter in its own house or in its own righteousness. It stands divorced from every confidence except in mercy itself, looking only to the substitutionary work of Christ. Can a mother forget her nursing child? She may, and the world is full of such unnatural tragedies. But God’s remembering is stronger than all human forgetting. His mercy is tender in its provisions, giving you not just a reprieve but a new heart and a right spirit. It asks of you nothing but what it gives to you: the will to repent, the power to believe.
Pray on, then, for prayer is the forerunner of the mercy you seek. While you are yet speaking, He hears. You cry out for a shelter, a refuge for the abandoned. Know this: Jesus Christ Himself is the only true Shelter. He was Himself forsaken by His Father on the tree so that we who were cast out might be brought in. You speak of a madhouse of affliction; many a soul has found Christ in that very place. Your sense of isolation, your pain over generations lost, your begging for mercy, these are not signs that God has forgotten you. They are the footsteps of mercy in the experience of those who prove its saving efficacy. The Lord is slow to threaten, but swift to show compassion. He is not willing that any should perish, but calls all to turn and live. Let this hope anchor your soul, even as you continue to intercede for those still trapped in the spiraling sins of abandonment and murder. God’s mercy goes before; it was betrothed to you before you called, and it will answer you in the day of your desolation. Look to the Messenger of mercy, Jesus Christ, who humbles Himself to death, even the death of the cross. There, in His wounded side, is the refuge for every abandoned brother, sister, child, and every heartbroken beggar. Lay hold of Him, and you shall have solid hope amidst the ruins.
Prayer Focus: God, Thank You for loving me. Thank You for loving me, Jesus. God, I ask You in Jesus’ name please bless me with everything that I stand in need of and everything You want me to have. 
