The Indispensable Ministry of Disability
It was our first Sunday back to church after an extended Covid isolation. Ben leaped out of the car as soon as it stopped, enthusiastically hugging a man having a cigarette in the parking lot before marching through the front doors to the warm greetings of his friends. We hurried to catch up, and as the countdown to worship began, Ben swaggered down the center aisle, confidently taking his seat front and center. I cringed, and hurried down the aisle after him, trying to convince him to sit back further with his father and me. Ben was having none of it! So, I snuck back to my seat rather than get into a public power struggle there at the front of the church. I squirmed. “What should we do?” I whispered to my husband. “What CAN we do?” he whispered back.
My son Ben is thirty years old. He has the heart of a child and the scruffy beard of a young man. He was born with Down Syndrome and Autism, two holes in his heart, and the inability to speak.
He was also born with a soul precious to God.
The service ended, and I resolved to tamp down his behavior the next week. But I was stopped, again and again, by other church members. “It was so good to see Ben up front worshipping!” one said. “Watching Ben worship helps me worship,” said another, struggling to hold back tears. “I’ve missed Ben so much,” said another, watching him make his rounds of hugs and fist-bumps. Later, the parking lot smoker came up as we were getting into the car. “I have to tell you something,” he said. “I’ve been discouraged and haven’t felt like I belong here. But when Ben hugged me, it was like God was saying that I need to be here.”
It is a courageous decision for parents to bring their child with special needs to church, not knowing if they will be welcomed or if people are willing to make adaptations to accommodate their needs. Thankfully, many churches are working to assist families like ours. Many of us have been in the uncomfortable position of watching our children acting out and worrying about how they will be perceived by others.
Ben grew up in a church that went to great lengths to support him in Sunday school and youth group, and that meant a lot to us. But our more recent experiences with Ben have opened my eyes to the realization that people with disabilities in our congregations are not just objects of ministry. They are gifted just like the rest of us, though often in ways that we haven’t realized.
In 1 Corinthians 12, we read that the body of Christ has many members, and that we are all necessary and specially gifted through the Spirit. Many notable gifts are listed in the passage, but we aren’t left to assume that just because a person doesn’t have the kind of up-front gift that others do, they are excluded. Paul explains that we are all part of the body of Christ, and everyone is needed. Every single one, especially the weakest among us. Verse 22 specifically says that the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. Indispensable? Isn’t that for the leaders? No! In the upside-down kingdom of God, weakness highlights God’s sufficiency, whereas strength is often conflated with our own adequacy.
Consider, as well, what Paul wrote in another letter to the same church.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 9–10)
Paul, the world’s most insightful theologian, had to learn to be content with his weaknesses. As do we all. But we also need to learn to view the weaknesses of others not with pity, but with esteem.
People living with disabilities are thoroughly acquainted with weakness. And therefore God is pleased to glorify himself through them. We treat weaknesses as things to be conquered, delivered from, or healed before we can be of service. God, though, sees opportunity. God does not equate success with adequacy; rather, he rejoices to respond to dependency.
But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. (1 Cor. 1:27–29)
How do we view people with disabilities in our congregations? Are they to be pitied or appreciated? Are they defined by their needs, or empowered to serve in their own unique way? Our actions on behalf of these—“the least of these,” Jesus called them—are vitally important! But equally crucial are our perceptions. God is pleased to use the weak things of this world to shame the wise. The question many churches must consider is, Are we looking for it? As Paul writes, “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good” (1 Cor. 12:7).
I think of Ben, wildly air-drumming to the worship music, and how that moves people closer to the heart of God. Of him hugging someone and the joy that brings to them. In the past, we’ve tried different ways to help Ben contribute to the life of the church by “doing something.” But I’ve come to realize that Ben is indispensable just as he is. Not because of what he can do, but because of who he is. Paul came to this realization when he proclaimed that God’s power is made perfect in his weakness. Paul, brilliant, bold, and courageous, had to learn that God’s power is often best displayed through our weakness, not despite it.
The weakest among us may have the least to offer physically or intellectually. But their very presence with us causes us to ask questions, pray, show compassion, and understand the tenderness of God. “Why was he born this way?” the blind man’s parents asked Jesus. “So that the glory of God might be displayed in his life,” was his answer (John 9:1–3). The glory of God is displayed through the least of these. This helps us to see weaknesses not as barriers, but as windows to his glory, and as doors of invitation to peer more deeply into his heart.
So, the next time a person with disabilities comes to church, let us reach out with a warm welcome instead of fear. And let us view them not just with eyes for ministry, but also with a heart of wonder. Because God resides in the least, responds to the weak, and you never know what he might be doing for his glory.
Andrea Sanborn is an adoptive and special needs mom whose overriding passion is to encourage others toward a deeper walk with Jesus, where faith finds grounding in hope. She is a member of the GCD Writers’ Guild and has been published in the anthology Beneath the Mask: Faith, Hope, & Transformation in the face of COVID-19 and in the upcoming books, Room at The Table: Encouraging Stories for Special Needs Families, and Immersed, a devotional for Minnesota Bridging the Gap. Her writing has also appeared at ThePerennialGen.com, SEND Magazine, and ChristianDevotions.us. She lives in northern Minnesota with her husband and adult son Ben, who has Down Syndrome and Autism and a unique—often humorous—way of navigating the world. She blogs at andreasanborn.com. You can also find her on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.