The church’s Disability

A Community Blog

For many of us in the disability community, our relationship with faith can be incredibly complex. We love the Lord, we crave spiritual connection, but too often, the very places meant to offer solace—churches—become spaces of discomfort and judgment. It’s a paradox that weighs heavily on the soul.

Who wants to go to church and be constantly stared at? Who wants to attend a funeral, already a time of immense grief, only to hear the pastor speak about the deceased as if they were a stranger, completely unaware of the rich life lived by the person with a disability they are meant to be celebrating? These aren’t isolated incidents; they’re common experiences that chip away at a sense of belonging.

That’s precisely what so many well-meaning congregations don’t quite grasp. As a disabled person, when you feel that energy – the pity, the awkward glances, the unspoken questions – it actively pushes you away, no matter how much you yearn for spiritual connection. You feel like an outsider, an anomaly, rather than a cherished member of the flock. It makes you want to retreat, to seek God in the quiet solitude of your own home, far from the subtle rationalization.

What truly frustrates me is the disconnect. People gather to praise and worship, singing about love and community, yet many remain firmly entrenched in their own safety bubbles. They’ll lift their hands in adoration but won’t extend one to say hello at fellowship. They’ll preach inclusivity but practice exclusivity, often unconsciously. The truth is, you’ll never be able to reach everyone, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying to bridge the gap between professed faith and lived acceptance. This isn’t about malice; it’s about a lack of understanding, a failure to truly see and welcome.

My dream? I would love to walk into a congregation—or roll into it, as the case may be—and see it bustling with wheelchairs and walkers, with people of all abilities steaming with joy for God. Too often, I’ve been the only person with a disability in the church. Or, if there are others, they’re tucked away in a corner, out of sight, out of mind, so as not to “bother” the rest of the folks. This isn’t what true community looks like. This isn’t what radical love looks like.

Matthew 18:20 NIV “ For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

We need spaces where our presence isn’t an inconvenience, our bodies aren’t a spectacle, and our faith is celebrated just as vibrantly as anyone else’s. It’s about creating an environment where the spirit can truly soar, free from the burdens of judgment and isolation. We need churches willing to step out of their comfort zones, not just physically accessible buildings, but truly accessible hearts.

A quick note for my incredible community:

I’m currently traveling and, unfortunately, don’t have access to my podcast equipment right now. Because of this, I’ll be sharing an additional Community Blog this week to keep our conversations flowing! Until I get my podcast back up and running, you can expect these bonus Community Blogs every Wednesday. Thank you for your understanding and continued engagement!

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Disability Limbo Newsletter October 20, 2025

October 21, 2025

Unknown Future for Disabled Students

October community Blog

An executive order aimed at “reorganizing the executive branch” has initiated a restructuring within the Department of Education so sweeping that an estimated 90% of the Department of Special Education has been cut. This is not mere bureaucratic shuffling; it is a profound threat to the educational lifeline of millions of students with disabilities and their families across America.

The Office of Special Education Programs (OSEP) and the Rehabilitation Services Administration (RSA)—two pillars of federal support for disability education and vocational services—are being consolidated into a new “Office of Disability Programs.” While presented as an efficiency measure, this move risks diluting specialized expertise and advocacy under a broader, less focused umbrella.

It suggests a fundamental misunderstanding of the intricate needs of students with disabilities, whose educational journeys require dedicated attention. We are not just “people with disabilities”; we are students with IEPs, individuals requiring specific accommodations, and citizens entitled to tailored pathways to independence.

The countless parents who have fought tooth and nail for their children’s rights under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). They’ve navigated complex systems, battled for resources, and advocated for individualized plans that are often the only guarantee of a meaningful education. Now, with the federal offices designed to uphold these rights being drastically downsized, what does this mean for the future of compliance, oversight, and—most critically—access?

This prospect could leave families isolated, battling under-resourced schools, and facing an even more daunting bureaucracy. This isn’t an abstract policy change; it’s a direct assault on the promise of an equitable education for our most vulnerable students.

This cannot and must not be allowed to become a partisan issue. Disability rights are human rights. They transcend political ideology because they speak to the fundamental dignity and potential of every individual. Every community, every family, regardless of political affiliation, is touched by disability. Access to education, vocational support, and a life of self-determination are not negotiable political bargaining chips; they are universal entitlements in a just society. When we diminish these protections for people with disabilities, we don’t just harm a segment of our population; we diminish the moral standing and strength of our entire nation. A powerful society uplifts all its members, recognizing the inherent value and contribution of all citizens.

Therefore, we must move beyond fear and into urgent action. The immediate and paramount call to action is to educate and empower families with disabilities to navigate this perilous new landscape of disability services.

Stay informed, double-check all sources, and share what you’ve learned.
Engage with your local school boards, state disability councils, and advocacy organizations. These local entities will be on the front lines, and they need reinforced support and active participation.
Build new connections by reaching out to others who have not been reached before, and collective strength is the key.

The foundation of disability education in America is under threat. By uniting, informing ourselves, and advocating tirelessly, we can protect the rights and futures of millions. This fight requires every voice.