Introduction to the Introduction

“The Ab-Smash debate”, to clarify, has nothing to do with crunches or six-packs. It’s just my idiosyncratic way of referring, in five syllables, to something which takes about five hundred to get out: “the debate between Abolitionists and Smashmouth Incrementalists.” Anyone who has tried to write an article like this will understand how useful such things are.

Also, I’m Australian. So you’ll forgive me for referring to the Smashmouth Incrementalists as “the Smashies”, and the Abolitionists as “the Billies.”

Introduction

Within the ranks of Christians who believe abortion is murder — and note that I did not say “swelling” ranks, because, compared to the uncircumcised Syrians that fill the country, we are like “two little flocks of goats” (1 Kgs 20:27) — there are two main positions on the appropriate way to abolish and criminalise it:

• Smashies: Abortion is murder, and we ought to take every possible step towards abolishing and criminalising it, even if that happens incrementally.
• Billies: God does not permit the instantiation of any law that acquits the guilty or shows partiality. Therefore, we may not take incremental steps, because those steps involve imperfect (thus, iniquitous) laws. The only “step” we may take is one of total and immediate abolition.

Despite appearances, this is not a debate of immediatism versus incrementalism. Both sides would immediately abolish abortion if given the opportunity; both sides recognise that God often brings about change in history incrementally. The debate is not over outcomes, which are in the hand of God, but approach. The two sides disagree on whether imperfect legislation can be used righteously in the pursuit of abolition.

To illustrate this difference, consider how you would answer these questions.

You are a Christian member of a state parliament. You are hoping to vote for a bill that would abolish abortion altogether. No such bill is before the house, but a bill arrives that would prohibit abortion from the point at which cardiac activity is detectable. Do you vote for it?

• Smashy: Yes, because it is at least better than what we have at present. I did not introduce the partiality already on the statute books; I only removed some of it. If I vote for this law, I will save some babies and move closer to justice.
• Billy: Absolutely not. That cardiac-activity bill is the definition of partiality. It codifies into law the idea that babies whose cardiac activity is not detectable have no right to life. If I vote for it, I am establishing an iniquitous decree.

You are a parliamentarian hoping to see a bill of abolition pass into law. As you work with your electorate, it becomes clear that a bill of abolition would not receive enough votes, but a bill prohibiting abortion after detectable cardiac activity probably would. Do you put forward the limited bill?

• Smashy: Yes, because it is the best we can do at this stage. We need to keep preaching the gospel to change the hearts of the people so that next time they will vote for a better bill.
• Billy: No. Not only is the limited bill disqualified by its partiality, I would be displaying a lack of faith by putting it forward; I would be saying the battle is too difficult for God to win, so I need to make it easier for him. We need to keep preaching the gospel to change the hearts of the people and keep proposing bills of abolition until God gives us the victory.

As an aside, I would be genuinely interested to know how Billies and Smashies respond to this scenario:

You are a public prosecutor in a state where a cardiac-activity law has been enacted. A doctor has performed sixteen abortions before cardiac activity was detectable, which the law permits, and three afterward, which the law forbids. You can prosecute him only for the three later abortions. Do you proceed with the prosecution, knowing that by doing so you enforce a law that protects some children but abandons others? Or do you refuse to prosecute at all, lest you participate in a law that shows partiality?

My Thesis

I believe the Ab-Smash debate reduces to the ranking of two competing principles:

1. Obeying God by rescuing the helpless.
2. Obeying God by establishing just laws.

The disagreement isn’t whether we must do both, but which duty governs the other when they seem to conflict. Is it in the pursuit of rescuing babies that we should establish just laws? Or is it in the pursuit of establishing just laws that we should rescue babies?

To the Smashy, the priority is saving God’s image-bearers; the more we pursue this, the more just the laws will become. To the Billy, the priority is honouring God’s moral order; seek only to establish just laws, and leave the number of saved babies to his sovereign hand.

By framing the contention in such a balanced way, I am not attempting to straddle the fence of indecision or to take the invertebrate both-sides-have-a-point-so-can’t-we-all-hold-hands-and-sing-kumbaya approach. Rather, I aim to show — before I inevitably offend the sensibilities of one side, which I will, if you grant me your patience to the end of this article — that I understand, and can argue for, both positions with sympathy and clarity.

Apparently Competing Laws

The key to determining which position is biblical is to answer the question raised earlier: which duty — rescuing the helpless or establishing just laws — governs the other when they seem to conflict?

Before answering that question, however, it may be necessary to quell the rising suspicions of those who would protest that “Surely God’s law never competes with itself.” These interlocutors ought to remember the following words from the Word:

“Or have you not read in the Law how on the Sabbath the priests in the temple profane the Sabbath and are guiltless? I tell you, something greater than the temple is here. And if you had known what this means, “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice,” you would not have condemned the guiltless. For the Son of Man is lord of the Sabbath.” (Matthew 12:5-8)

How is it possible for priests to “profane” the fourth commandment and be guiltless? It was because, in spirit, they did not actually disobey God’s Sabbath law; they acted in service of a greater commandment — to worship God — and this priority manifested in a comparative disregard for the Sabbath. Christ’s statement did not condone breaking the fourth commandment; it was a hyperbolic assertion which exposed a particular type of legalistic attitude that insists upon a wooden application of God’s law.

But a living law cannot fit in a box any more than the living, triune God who gave it.

For another example, consider Rahab. Remember that the ex-prostitute appeared to violate the ninth commandment — “you shall not bear false witness against your neighbour” (Ex 20:16) — in an action for which Scripture explicitly commends her:

“Was not also Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out by another way?” (James 2:25)

To put it another way: Was not Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she blatantly lied? When, in good conscience, she drew in the breath and emitted syllable after deliberate syllable of utter falsehoods?

Here it is:

“But the woman had taken the two men and hidden them. And she said, ‘True, the men came to me, but I did not know where they were from. And when the gate was about to be closed at dark, the men went out. I do not know where the men went. Pursue them quickly, for you will overtake them.’” (Joshua 2:4-5)

Is it not also true that if Rahab hadn’t been well-practised in the art of hiding men in her house and deceiving unwelcome knockers into clearing off, she may not have achieved the above deception with such convincing poise?

We are, therefore, forced to the conclusion that Rahab was justified by works in the very act of:

1. Appearing to violate the ninth commandment.
2. Capitalising on skills derived from being a harlot.

Why was this not only acceptable to God, but commended? Is it not because the motivating force behind her actions was a deeper obedience to another, weightier commandment?

“You shall have no other gods before me” (Ex 20:3).

Rahab certainly had this principle in mind, as is evident from her own words:

“…for the Lord your God, he is God in the heavens above and on the earth beneath.” (Joshua 2:11)

It was evidently obedience to this principle that, to her mind, trumped consideration of the lesser principle, “don’t lie.” If she was to acknowledge the authority of Yahweh, she must reject that of Jericho’s king. She could not acquiesce to the wishes of the latter when doing so would compromise the purposes of the Former. To put it another way, the first commandment governed her apparent profaning of the ninth.

Of course, some have argued — rightly, I think — that deception of the enemy is justified in a righteous war; and since Rahab found herself in such a conflict, her lie was not sinful. This is not a different argument, but the same one stated another way: in a clash of two kings — one the Father of truth, the other the father of lies — loyalty to Yahweh requires one to fight, even with words, on his side.

Now, in a perfect world, the ten commandments would never appear to be in competition. There would never be a moment when obedience to one commandment would require an apparent compromise of another. But we live in a fallen, messy world, in which circumstances are rarely that simple:

• Someone you know is considering driving in a state of utter drunkenness, so in obedience to the sixth commandment, to preserve life, you confiscate his keys, thus appearing to violate the eighth, not to steal.
• Gideon appeared to violate personal property rights, commandment eight, in his zeal for commandments one and two (Jud 6:25-32).
• The Hebrew midwives were commended for their courage when they lied, commandment nine, in order to preserve life, commandment six.

Weightier Matters

That some commandments are weightier than others is evident from Scripture:

“You tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others.” (Matthew 23:23)

“And one of the scribes came up and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, asked him, “Which commandment is the most important of all?” Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”” (Mark 12:28-31)

God’s law is unified, but not flat. When duties seem to collide, Scripture instructs us to act according to the weightier commands first — namely, the ones that most directly express love for God and neighbour. For example, the law technically did require Israel to tithe every last mint leaf in their possession, for Christ says “these you ought to have done.”

But remember to whom Christ said these words: Jewish elders with far too much time on their hands. Suppose, on the other hand, you were an ordinary Israelite with a large family, and only a meagre twenty-four hours in your day. It is quite likely that your available time physically prohibited you from tithing your mint leaves. After working hard all day, then coming home to feed the kids, it strikes me that sorting through ten per cent of the herb jar should not be high on your list of duties before God. Indeed, the Lord expects you to prioritise the weightier matters of the law. Do them first; and if the mint leaves get missed, only a pharisaical ghoul would insist that you were being disobedient.

This is what I mean by “apparently competing laws.” I don’t mean “doing evil so that good may come.” I don’t mean “the ends justifying the means.” I am referring to the scriptural principle that, as finite beings, any genuine attempt to be obedient necessarily requires the prioritisation of whichever laws are deemed weightier. Pursuit of the other, less weighty laws may follow as God gives you time and opportunity.

It is important to clarify, therefore, that God’s law can never truly contradict itself. When the intention of the commandments is understood, none of the foregoing illustrations depict genuine violations of God’s law. Confiscating a drunk man’s keys is not stealing because you didn’t take them for yourself. Rahab did not bear false witness “against her neighbour” but for the benefit of her neighbour. The priests in the temple did not truly break the fourth commandment because they were obeying its true intention — to serve and worship God.

I have laboured this point because of how disreputable this article could appear. And if, after all I have done to spread sweetness and reason, you insist on the summary, “Well, um, basically he believes you’re allowed to compromise the ninth commandment,” then I will probably grin and recite Matthew 5:11-12.

What the above discussion means is that there is a right answer to the Ab-Smash debate. Either Billy or Smashy is going home with a trophy. I will be taking a side.

Note first, however, that both sides appear to violate one of God’s commandments:

• When a Smashy endorses a cardiac-activity bill, he appears to violate the ninth commandment — “do not bear false witness against your neighbour” — because the bill really does tell a falsehood about the image of God: namely, that some human lives, those without detectable cardiac activity, are less worthy of protection than others. Even if his intent is to save as many lives as possible, the law itself bears false witness about the value of human life.
• When a Billy refuses to endorse a cardiac-activity bill, he appears to violate the sixth commandment — “do not murder” — in that he withholds his hand from rescuing those being led away to death when he has the means to spare them. Even if his intent is to uphold pure justice, his inaction allows preventable bloodshed to continue.

To move on from mere appearances, however: since God’s law is consistent, we must conclude that one of the positions genuinely does violate one of the ten commandments, whilst the other only appears to. One position correctly assigns weight to the sixth and ninth commandments; the other, incorrectly.

This is why the Ab-Smash debate has such an emotional charge: one side is morally culpable in a way that will demand confession and repentance.

My task, therefore, is to determine which of the two commandments — the sixth or the ninth — is weightier. Having established this, I will be in a position to hand out the prizes, dust my hands off, and look around expectantly with the naive words “Are we all square?” on my lips.

(Of course, there is another commandment at play here — the first. Abortion is modern-day child sacrifice. But both Smashies and Billies agree that this commandment is of utmost weight.)

So, Which Is It?

Consider the following text, which describes the principles of the ninth commandment in more detail:

“If a malicious witness rises up against a man to accuse him of wrongdoing, then both the men who have the dispute shall stand before Yahweh, before the priests and the judges who will be in office in those days. And the judges shall inquire thoroughly, and behold, if the witness is a false witness and he has accused his brother falsely, then you shall do to him just as he had intended to do to his brother. Thus you shall purge the evil from among you. And the rest will hear and be afraid and will never again do such an evil thing among you. Thus your eye shall not show pity: life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.” (Deuteronomy 19:16-21)

Notice that this law calibrates the gravity of false witness by the good it endangers — and the maximum gravity appears precisely where the endangered good is life. In plain terms: a false witness in court is bad because of what it does. In the worst cases, it takes life. This is certainly the case in a cardiac-activity bill. Such a bill is a false witness against babies whose cardiac activity is not yet detectable, and it results in their death.

But since this is true, it is clear that the ninth commandment serves the sixth. What do I mean by “serves”? Note how the second law, against making idols, serves the first, about having no god but Yahweh, because an idol, at worst, replaces God Himself. In the same way, the ninth law, against false witness in court, serves the sixth, against murder, because a false witness, at worst, will take another man’s life.

The sixth commandment, therefore, is weightier. It takes priority. There. I said it.

Applying this to the Ab-Smash debate: the Smashies — at least in theory — give God’s law its correct weighting, whilst the Billies falsely prioritise the ninth commandment over the sixth.

Let me be clear about what this means and what it does not. To use Christ’s own wording: “This you ought to have done,” the ninth commandment, “without neglecting the other,” the sixth. Both the ninth and the sixth commandments must be obeyed. If a bill of abolition is in front of you, and you can support it, then you ought to support it. Anything else is blatant sin.

But if you find yourself in the position of having to choose the weightier path of obedience — like the man who has no time to divvy out a tenth of his herbs because his children are pulling at his coat sleeves for food — then choose life first. Rescue the helpless; that is your immediate duty before God. If the only tool at hand is imperfect — say, a partial cardiac-activity bill — then wield it to strike at the bloodguilt where you can.

To claim that such an action disobeys the ninth commandment is to forget the order of duties, and the fact that, as finite beings, we can only do one thing at a time. Our overworked Israelite brother is not disobedient to the tithe when he first feeds his family and then finds he has no time to give consideration to the herb jar. If we grant that other pressures in his life legitimately demanded his attention, then he hasn’t even reached a point where tithing mint is a possibility. How can it be disobedience when obedience wasn’t an option? The result is that the mint will lie, untouched, in the cupboard.

The same principle is at work when a partial bill comes before an MP. If we grant that the injunction to save life demands his priority, then he hasn’t even reached a stage where obedience to the ninth commandment is a possibility. The partiality already in the law will remain untouched for now. It hasn’t been endorsed or rejected; it simply hasn’t made it to the threshold of being dealt with.

(Needless to say, I do not mean to equate the severity of writing unjust laws with failing to tithe your mint. It’s the type of situation I’m comparing, not the gravity.)

Conclusion

What I have done in this article is give a detailed, scriptural credence to what most Christians seem to know instinctively: that God is a God of grace who does not demand paralysis in the face of imperfection. He permits — indeed, commands — his people to act according to the weightier matters of the law when obedience to all at once is humanly impossible.

“For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.” (Psalm 103:14)

God has not forgotten that the ground over which he has asked man to sweat grows thorns. He did not tell Adam to wait until inventing a global herbicide before attempting to till the ground. He expected him to get rid of the thorns when he could, as he could, and to ask God for the removal of the ones he couldn’t reach.

It is for these reasons that I rest my case on the injunctions of Proverbs 24:11-12 and 3:27-28 — rescue those being taken away to death when it is in your power to do it. Will God not repay you according to your work?

Appendix One: Objections

Objection 1: Martyrdom

Martyrdom is an example where the ninth commandment seems to outweigh the sixth. When the threat of martyrdom is upon you, you should be willing for your life to be lost for the sake of telling the truth.

Answer:

I need to stress how finely I am slicing my point here. When I say that the sixth commandment is weightier than the ninth, I do not endorse disobedience to either. I certainly do not mean that life simply outranks truth. I mean that, as you — a finite being — seek to obey God, the sixth should occupy your attention first before you turn to the ninth.

But note that it is the very fact that your life is valuable that makes the martyrdom meaningful. In this sense, you have honoured the spirit of the sixth commandment first in your obedience to the ninth by giving up your life for the truth.

Objection 2: Practical Efficacy

Incremental bills are not just partial in theory, but also counterproductive in practice. Even if the goal were to save lives — thus prioritising the sixth commandment — the best way to do this practically would be for Christians to leverage their political power by withholding their participation until a bill of abolition appears.

Answer:

With no political experience, I cannot authoritatively say this claim is false, even though it seems demonstrably spurious. Nor do I need to. Even if the claim is true, there are two answers to the objection.

First, if the claim is true, then all the Billies have to do is convince the Smashies of its truth. If they can do this, the Smashies will be, practically speaking, on board with the Billy endeavour, without giving up their Smashmouth Incrementalism.

Secondly, this cedes Abolitionist ground on the conceptual, or doctrinal, level, which matters far more than the practical. At the conceptual level, the telos of the Abolitionist position is not saving lives but establishing just laws. If then, the Billies shift the argument to a discussion of how many lives are saved, they are being bad presuppositionalists by accepting the Smashies’ framework of discussion. They have jumped into the Smashy world to reason towards a Billy world.

Objection 3: This is “The Ends Justify the Means”

This argument sounds perilously close to consequentialism. Saying “rescue life first, even if the law is imperfect” implies that good outcomes, saved lives, justify morally compromised means, partial laws.

Answer:

This has already been answered, but I will restate it here for clarity. I am not arguing for permission to sinfully compromise. Such would not be obedience at all. I am arguing that, of necessity, we have finite limitations in our obedience because we are creatures in a fallen world.

If, in order to get an incremental bill passed, you introduce a falsehood into the law that was not already present — say, the immunity of mothers from prosecution — you really have done evil so that good may come. That is a sinful compromise. If, on the other hand, the existing laws already gave mothers immunity, and you simply lacked the political muscle to get rid of it, your obedience has been limited only by your finitude. You did what was in your power to do.

Objection 4: Pharaoh’s Compromises

Pharaoh repeatedly proposed incremental “deals” to Moses that he rejected. Moses preferred to leave his people entirely in slavery than partially obey God (Exodus 10:24-26 – “not a hoof shall be left behind”). It was total obedience or nothing.

Answer:

Pharaoh’s proposals weren’t born of limitation but rebellion. With a twitch of his pinkie, he could release every last Israelite, yet he refused. He is like a parliamentarian who has the numbers to abolish abortion but withholds his support because he loves the political power the current abortion laws afford him and fears the backlash of their removal.

If such a man were to approach his parliamentary colleagues with the suggestion, “How about we reduce this to a cardiac-activity bill so I don’t have to deal with all the angry emails?” they must answer like Moses did: “No Trevor,” they must say—or “Tutankhamun” if that happened to be the political leader’s name—“your duty before God is clear. We’ll accept nothing but the bill of abolition.”

This, you may notice, is precisely the sort of situation in which the argument of Objection 2 applies. To capitulate here would genuinely be counterproductive to the goal of saving lives. Prioritising obedience to the sixth commandment, in this case, requires holding the line.

Appendix Two: Bruised Fruit

The Ab-Smash debate has been one with which I’ve wrestled for the entirety of 2025. For most of the year, I fell into the Billy camp, subscribing not only to the five tenets of Abolitionism, but the entire Norman Statement.

Recent circumstances, however — which we need not discuss here — have nudged me into a reconsideration of my position. The Scriptures teach that when you see bad fruit, you should investigate whether the tree itself has some rottenness. This, in short, is what prompted me to take another look at the Billy tree: I began to see bruises on the fruit – the bruises of purist exclusivism, an unwillingness to listen, and the usurpation of local church authority. I began to wish that there was a movement of Billies with the same locally produced fruit as the Smashies.

After thinking through the issues once more, however, I concluded that the bruises were not a bug but a feature of the Abolitionist movement. Indeed, many Billies point at these bruises with delight, as though they are not flaws at all. On an issue so cut-and-dried, they argue, why shouldn’t we be intolerant of sinful opposition? And when my local church is in sin, they ask, who will call her to repent?

Here is why I believe the Abolitionist movement yields this bruised fruit. At its core, the Billy framework absolutises divine law in abstraction from creaturely limitation. And when a movement fails to account for the distinction between finitude and compromise, it naturally begins to confuse grace with cowardice. When its theology of obedience allows no gradation between faithfulness-under-limitation and outright rebellion, then every disagreement becomes a crisis of repentance. If you genuinely believe your fellow Christians are refusing to obey God when they act with finite limitations, then love for them – which you may have once had – will be eclipsed by righteous indignation.

Abolitionism’s moral clarity and prophetic tone attract those — like myself — who are disgusted by the secular moral relativism of the pro-life movement. This zeal is commendable, but it must be tempered with the acknowledgement of human finitude or it will devolve into bitterness against brothers in Christ, and an abundance of false accusations.

Appendix Three: Order of Duties

As a final thought, allow me to once more call for zeal, with one caveat. In a world of invertebrate jellies, we need people who’ve had the proverbial rocket thrust up their respective jumpers, who think definitively and apply the word of God in the public sphere without apology.

But we must do this with the recognition of our order of duties:

• A father’s first duty is not to abolish abortion. His first duty is to worship God, love his wife, and bring up his children in the Lord.
• A mother’s first duty is not to abolish abortion. Her first duty is to worship God, respect her husband, and nurture her children.

The chances are that each one of us is not special. The chances are that we are not called to face down the Prime Minister outside Parliament House over unjust laws. In fact, if we fail to do the above basic duties, those chances are close to one hundred per cent.

So do what you can, when you can, as you can. Be obedient today and leave the outcomes to God with a deferential grin.

– Micah Hunter