On the last leg of my journey home from DC, a lady sat beside me in the airport and started making small talk. She complained about TSA, cussed a little, told me where she was headed. And then asked me where I was coming from.

I was reluctant to answer because I knew what the follow-up question would entail.

"Washington, DC," I said.

"And what were you doing there?"

(Oh, boy.)

I told her. A "mission trip" of sorts with a bunch of Christians against abortion. Fighting to abolish abortion and establish equal justice under law for all human beings.

She didn't like that and told me as much. We had a tense little conversation about it; from her, on how "childbirth is the leading cause of death for women," "the baby is just a clump of cells," "removing a miscarriage is also an abortion so if we abolish abortion, we're killing women ..."

I said what I could, maintained civility, and when she got up to leave I thanked her for talking.

She couldn't care less.

I couldn't care more.

There I was, sitting alone in a busy airport at 7 p.m., dead tired, emotionally fraught, feeling quite discouraged after what I perceived to be an unsuccessful interaction.

I held back tears while sitting there, while boarding and while flying. I fought to turn my gaze on Christ — not on that woman, not on myself, not desperately on the crowd of strangers around me. There was no one there who knew me or could comfort me.

But Christ.

Looking to Him caused a changed perspective. That woman was lost; she needed a Savior just as much as I did once (and still do). She spoke and thought and acted not entirely on her own authority but under that of her father, the devil. I spoke not on my own authority either, but under that of He who saved me.

We fight not against flesh and blood.

Duty is ours, results belong to God.

I am not responsible for changing minds on abortion.

I am responsible for sharing the truth.

I am not responsible for anyone's salvation.

I am responsible for sharing the Gospel, but not for saving anyone.

Only God can do that, as He so wills.

He is sovereign, holy, gracious, merciful, good and worthy to be praised.

I belong to Him, all I am is His, He alone keeps me and sustains me and instructs me how to live for Him.

If the conversation bombs, if the plane goes down (I had that worry too), if everything goes south: He is in control, He is not surprised, and He will work it all for my good and His glory.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Emily Curtis is a first-generation abolitionist, writer and agriculture enthusiast from Michigan, striving by the grace of God to live life "Coram Deo." Emily is a signer of the Norman Statement.