Throughout the summer, I have wrestled with a question that has stirred in my soul. It comes from my multiple perspectives as a child of God, a pastor, a father of neurodivergent children, and someone with my own neurodivergence.
Is the Christian disability movement truly present with the disability community?
At first glance, the question seems easy to answer. If the church seeks to share grace and love with the disability community, then it must be present with them. There is a tendency in the church to believe that if we offer something – a children’s ministry, a VBS, a specific group – then, by extension, we are automatically present with that community.
I’m not sure reality is that simple. Reality is often more complex than we realize, and it comes with hidden spots that prevent true ministry and life from happening. It is those hidden spots within the church’s witness with the disability community that prevent it from being fully present with the very community it seeks to love.
First, though, I define being present with a community as having intentional relationships built on honesty and dialogue, where there is a desire to share life. To be present with someone, regardless of ability, is to embrace the human dignity and sacredness of another and to see each person in the community as equal, though recognizing that each person may have different needs to be part of that shared space.
With that being the focus of presence, I believe some things are present within the Christian disability movement that prevent it from truly sharing life with the disability community.
For one, the Christian disability movement tends to be too focused on an attraction model of ministry with a desire to build what it believes the disability community needs from the church. The attraction model of ministry is based on the idea, to quote Field of Dreams, “if you build it, they will come.” The focus is that when the church offers certain ministries or opportunities that people desire, then it will begin to see those people in the church.
Attraction models of disability ministry are based on creating spaces that people need when they come to a public space. Ramps, accessible spaces, appropriate language, universal design, and other aspects of inclusion are necessary. Some churches and spaces still do not offer these basic accommodations that the attraction model seeks to address.
The issue is that the attraction model does not focus on a relationship with the people it seeks to serve. It can too easily focus on the perspectives of well-meaning and well-capable advocates who are marginally associated with disability, but do not have the real experience of living with it themselves. At the same time, the attraction model does not always allow for the perspective of real people with real disabilities in what is being discussed, offered, or needed. Programs and ramps do not, by themselves, lead to deeper ministry. That can only come when we seek relationships and valued conversations with people.
The disability movement in the church is also too willing to be silent when it comes to poor theology or harmful ideas regarding disability, especially when it comes to autism. Conspiracy theories related to autism have found a home in a segment within the disability movement. There is a segment of parents and others who cling to beliefs that autism is tied to vaccines or that autism needs to be cured. These beliefs are at the root of the religious freedom protections many seek regarding vaccines. It is not so much about faith as it is a fear of autism.
Instead of confronting these beliefs with truth spoken in love, the church disability movement is too silent. We are afraid to be seen as taking a stance on misinformation. We are also fearful of alienating people who populate our movement, our ministries, and our activities. The fear of losing what we have prevents us from combating false beliefs. As a result, we lose trust among the disability community and actual autistics who desire to be part of the church.
If the church is to be a loving witness of Jesus Christ, then it must speak truth with grace, whether it is about autism and vaccines, or any other issues that prevent true faith. Silence harms our effectiveness.
All of this would be addressed, though, if the disability movement addressed the glaring absence of real people with real disabilities leading the effort. Too often, the disability movement is led by parents, passionate advocates, and people with a desire to help. It misses the perspectives of people living with disabilities and their gifted leadership. In places where real people with real disabilities are leading, they show their gracefulness, humility, and honest perspectives. These few examples of leadership highlight the gap between people with real disabilities given a chance to lead and the leadership opportunities too often given to parents and those with connections.
In this, I believe the church should follow the model established by a program in West Virginia called “Expectations Matter.” Funded by grants from several organizations, this program is led by people with disabilities who train others with disabilities, their families, and caregivers on how to advocate for their needs. People with disabilities shape the conversation and the training, and they are the ones leading the effort. Where there is help from advocates and others, it is to guide situations or put parts of the conversation together, but the final decision and concept of the program is disability led and inspired.
I have participated in the training and been involved in some of the behind-the-scenes conversations. I have admired the leadership of my friends in the community and how their gifts and talents have shone to help others. I have left wishing this were true in the church.
The church disability movement does well in many aspects, but it lacks deeper ministry and engagement. Without true conversation, dealing with falseness, and allowing real people with disabilities to lead, it will never be a deeper witness of God’s love.
Shannon Blosser 