In ‘Our Father,’ A Fertility Doctor Justifies His Unethical Practice With Bible Verses

Production still. Photo courtesy of Netflix .

(REVIEW) In Jeremiah 1:5, God makes a promise to those he’s created: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”

For many Christians, the verse is a comforting reminder of God’s omnipotence and the personal connection he has with individual human beings. 

For Indianapolis fertility doctor Dr. Donald Cline, the verse had a much darker connotation. 

During the 1970s and ‘80s, Cline was widely regarded as one of the best fertility doctors in the business. A family man, church elder and devout Christian, Cline was also highly regarded in his community. 

The emergence of accessible DNA testing from places like 23 and Me uncovered that Cline had been using his own sperm to inseminate many of his patients — while they believed for years they were receiving the sperm of their husband or another approved donor. 

These extreme violations of privacy, the following responses from his numerous children and their fight for justice is the subject of new Netflix documentary “Our Father.” 

When Jacoba Ballard first figured out that Cline was her father, Cline insisted he had never used his sperm to inseminate any of his patients. As more siblings came forward with DNA proof, he insisted he’d done it no more than 15 times. Then more than 15 came forward. At the time of the documentary, Cline had been proven to have fathered 94 children through his clinic, and there’s plenty evidence to suggest there are more than that. 

It’s a terrifying concept for several reasons, among them that these children were lied to about who their father was and didn’t find out until they were well into adulthood. 

Many of the women also make clear that, though it’s not sex, getting fertility treatment is a sexual act. In these acts, trust between the doctor and the patient is paramount. To discover that Cline had broken their trust, sometimes multiple times, was horrific knowledge that felt as violating as molestation. 

Several of Cline’s children also suffer from autoimmune diseases they got from their father — meaning that if he’d been a legitimate donor, he wouldn’t have been approved.

Cline once met for lunch with some of his children, though the conversation centered around the various lives and achievements of his children — who said they felt like they were being judged and ranked — and biblical preaching about God’s blessing of children. He also talked regularly to Ballard on the phone, pleading with her not to tell anyone because it would ruin his marriage and doing more preaching from his favorite verses. Jeremiah 1:5 was chief among them.

Despite these interactions, his children got no answers as to why he might have wrongfully inseminated their mothers with his sperm. Cline gave no reason other than telling Ballard that “God allowed it.” 

After some research, the children found the Quiverfull sect of Christianity and became convinced Cline must adhere to its beliefs. Quiverfull, based on the proclamation in Psalm 127, believes having a large family is the most important thing a Christian can do. It denounces all forms of birth control, even natural family planning, and is said to have been founded in response to the feminist movement, which advocates for accessible birth control and abortions. 

Some even suggest that with Quiverfull, the goal is so have so many children so as to increase the population of conservative Christians in the world, an ideology along the lines of “If you can’t beat the secular liberals, have enough kids to outnumber them.” If that’s true, it’s thinly veiled Christian nationalism. 

The possibility of White nationalist motivations is suggested by Cline’s children, too — with blond hair and light eyes, one daughter calls them the “perfect Aryan clan.”

Neither of these are discussed in the documentary beyond speculation. After all, Cline never made any confessions, so there’s no way to know for sure why he did what he did. 

These are heavy and terrifying possibilities, true, but perhaps more terrifying is the reality that Cline altered families, caused his children innumerable problems and nonconsensually inseminated nearly 100 women — and just got away with it. 

Prosecution was only possible because Cline had lied on documents in the attorney general’s office when he claimed he hadn’t used his semen to impregnate anyone. He pled guilty to two counts of obstruction of justice and only paid a $500 fine but received no jail time. In the years since, because of the work of Cline’s children, the Indiana government passed a law that makes it illegal for fertility doctors to use their own sperm without their patient's consent, but no law of this kind exists federally. 

Legally, that makes sense. But there’s very little justice in it. 

Documentary subjects say that part of the reason Cline got away with so little punishment was because a large portion of the community came to his defense during the trial. Members of his church in particular wrote letters testifying to his strong character and positive presence in the community. 

At Zionsville Fellowship, where Cline was an elder, many church members say they weren’t aware of his misdeeds until a public report in 2016. 

“Current elders with the church say Cline admitted to them he was unethical with his practice,” the Fox 59 article reads. “But because they say he showed remorse, the church did not take any disciplinary actions against Cline.”

A parishioner featured anonymously in the documentary concurs with this sentiment, saying Cline had reconciled with God and therefore didn’t deserve any punishment. 

They obviously didn’t know everything that has since been made public, and the church told Fox 59 that if they had, he would have been removed as an elder. He’s since moved to another church. 

It’s ultimately frightening that in a series of events that hurt women, children and families, the church chose to stand behind the one man who was in the wrong. It may be even more frightening that this isn’t the first time Christians have done this, nor is it likely to be the last. 

“Our Father” is a disturbing documentary that leaves few answers and more questions. First among them is this: Does the church really care about justice at all? 

Jillian Cheney is a contributing culture writer for Religion Unplugged. She also writes on American Protestantism and evangelical Christianity and was Religion Unplugged’s 2020-21 Poynter-Koch fellow. You can find her on Twitter @_jilliancheney.