Indispensable
I was a special education kid.
Even now, that sentence feels a little strange coming out of my mouth. Maybe that says something about me or about how people of my generation understood disability. Probably a little of both.
I was born with a club foot. My parents worked hard to make sure I never thought of myself as disabled. They expected me to participate, compete, work, and figure things out just like everyone else. I am grateful for that. But there were things my body could not do the way everyone else's could, and at various points I received special education services.
The strange thing was that I was also identified for gifted and talented education. I was a kid living in two educational worlds: special education over here, gifted education over there, and only one me standing between them.
I didn't grow up planning to become a special education teacher. Ministry came first. I began as an associate pastor of youth while completing my first master's degree in Christian Education. Along the way, I taught in a Christian school to help support my growing family.
Ministry eventually took me overseas as a missionary pastor in Belgium and later to Alaska. There, education found me again. While pastoring, I began substitute teaching and increasingly found myself working in special education classrooms. Something clicked. I had always been drawn toward under-served people and communities, so I returned to school, earned a master's degree in education with an emphasis in special education, and eventually became a certified Kentucky special education teacher.
For much of my adult life, ministry and education have crossed paths. I have stood in pulpits and classrooms and watched pastors try to understand families while teachers try to understand children. Perhaps that is why a question increasingly troubles me: Are our churches prepared for the children and families already coming through our doors?
The world in our classrooms has changed
In the 2022-23 school year, nearly 110,000 Kentucky children ages 3 to 21 were served under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, or IDEA. That represented about 16.6 percent of Kentucky's public-school enrollment. Put simply, roughly one out of every six Kentucky public-school students receive services under IDEA.
Autism presents an especially striking picture. According to the Kentucky Department of Education, autism accounted for 3.06 percent of Kentucky students with disabilities in 2008-09. By 2022-23, that percentage had risen to 9.99 percent, more than tripled in less than fifteen years.
Why autism identification has risen so dramatically is complicated. Better recognition, earlier screening, improved access to evaluation, and changes in diagnostic practices are all part of the discussion. For the local church, however, there is a simpler reality: These children are here. They live in our neighborhoods and attend our schools. Their families live and work in our communities. And on Sunday morning, some of them walk through our doors. What happens next?
When behavior is communication
One of the most important lessons I learned in special education is remarkably simple: Behavior is often communication. That doesn't mean inappropriate behavior never needs correction. It means that before responding, we should sometimes ask: What is this child trying to tell me?
A child covers his ears when the worship band begins. Another cannot stay seated during Bible study. A child rocks back and forth, screams when the class unexpectedly changes activities or refuses to make eye contact. To an untrained observer, those behaviors may look disrespectful or disruptive. They may actually be saying: This room is too loud. I don't understand what is happening. Something changed. I need to move. I am overwhelmed. I cannot tell you what I need.
Perhaps before we correct every behavior, we should learn to hear what some behaviors are saying. That isn't lowering standards. It is learning to see the person standing in front of us.
Whose image do they bear?
Christians rightly talk about the imago Dei, the image of God. Genesis tells us humanity was created in His image. I bear God's image. You bear God's image. But theological convictions become more revealing when they inconvenience us. What about the child with profound autism who does not communicate verbally? The teenager with Down syndrome? The adult with an intellectual disability who may never live independently? Do they bear God's image in precisely the same sense that I do?
The answer must be yes. Yet sometimes our churches function as though the answers were, “Yes, but...” Yes, but they cannot participate like everyone else. Yes, but children's church isn't equipped for them. Yes, but they can be disruptive. Yes, but our volunteers don't know what to do. The imago Dei cannot rest upon intelligence, verbal ability, emotional regulation, productivity or independence. The image of God is not awarded according to ability.
Neither was my value as a child determined by what I would later become. I eventually became a pastor, missionary and teacher. But none of that made me more valuable than I was as the little boy receiving special education and gifted services. Some children with disabilities will accomplish things that surprise everyone. Others will require significant assistance throughout their lives. Both bear the image of God. Their worth was settled before we ever measured their ability.
Wanting God but struggling with church
The research ought to get our attention. In one survey of 416 parents, nearly one-third reported changing their place of worship because their son or daughter with a disability was not welcomed or included. A 2025 study identified continuing barriers involving congregational attitudes, expectations for participation, volunteer capacity, available support, and communication.
Perhaps most troubling, a 2026 study of 330 Christian parents raising children with disabilities found that 74.3 percent said their faith had become more important, while 60.3 percent said their involvement in church had decreased. Think about that. Faith became more important while participation in the gathered church went the other direction.
Some families may not be walking away because God has become less important. They may be quietly walking away because participating in church with their child has become too difficult. That should bother us.
Jesus saw the person at the edge of the crowd
Mark 5 tells of a woman who had suffered from chronic bleeding for twelve years. Her condition carries consequences far beyond physical suffering. She approaches Jesus almost anonymously, wanting only to touch His garment. She is healed, but Jesus stops. Eventually she comes forward trembling, and Jesus calls her something remarkable: “Daughter.”
Jesus saw more than her condition. He saw her and restored someone stuck at the margins of relationship and community. I am not suggesting that autism, Down syndrome or intellectual disability should be treated like this woman's illness. The connection is not disability or disease. The connection is alienation and belonging.
Jesus has a habit of seeing people everyone else has learned to see sees primarily through their condition. The church that bears His name should do the same. There is a profound difference between saying, “You may attend our church,” and saying, “You belong to us.”
Paul takes it even further
Paul tells the Corinthian church: “The parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22). He doesn't say weaker members should merely be tolerated or graciously endured. He doesn't even stop at inclusion. He calls them indispensable. And notice the word before it: those who “seem” weaker. Seem weaker according to whom? According to IQ, speech, mobility, social skills, independence or the ability to sit quietly through a forty-minute sermon?
Paul challenges our measurements of strength. Tolerance says, You can stay. Accommodation says, We will make adjustments so you can participate. Inclusion says, There is a place for you here. Belonging says, This is your church too. But indispensability says: We are not the whole body without you. That is a radically Christian understanding of inclusion. We aren't trying to catch up with culture. We're trying to catch up with Paul.
Public schools have spent decades learning how to accommodate children with different educational, developmental and behavioral needs because IDEA requires them to. The church should not need a federal mandate. Scripture gave us a theology of imago Dei long before IDEA gave schools a mandate for accommodation. Schools are required to make room. Churches should want these families here.
What can we do next Sunday?
A pastor of a small church may think, “We don't have the staff or money for a special-needs ministry.” You may not need one. Not every church needs an elaborate program or an expensive sensory room. But every church can take steps toward belonging.
First, ask before assuming. Talk with the family. Ask what helps their child participate, what creates difficulty, and how their child communicates. Don't only ask, “What does your child need?” Ask, “What does your child love?”
Second, train one or two people. A small church doesn't need an army of specialists. Start with willing people who understand some basics about autism, sensory overload, intellectual disability, and emotional regulation. Teach them one sentence: Behavior is often communication.
Third, create flexibility before creating a program. A quiet corner, headphones, a visual schedule or permission to move while listening may accomplish more than an expensive room. Give families permission to step away when things become overwhelming and return without embarrassment.
Fourth, reconsider “good church behavior.” A child doesn't need to make eye contact to hear about Jesus. A child can move and still listen. Noise isn't always disrespect. A meltdown isn't necessarily rebellion. Sometimes our expectations need discipleship too.
Finally, move from helping people to needing people. If people with disabilities are always recipients of ministry, we have stopped short of Paul's vision. Discover their gifts. Let them serve and contribute. Instead of only asking, “How can we minister to them?” ask: “What has God placed in them that our church needs?” That is what we do with indispensable members.
Every church needs a plan for belonging.
I would love to see every Kentucky Baptist church intentionally wrestle with this. Not every church needs a special needs ministry. But every church needs a plan for belonging.
What happens when an autistic child comes next Sunday? When a family raising a child with Down syndrome walks through the door? When an adult with an intellectual disability wants to become part of the congregation? Who welcomes them? Who listens? Where can they participate? How will we discover their gifts? Will they remain people we minister to or become people with whom and through whom we minister? We should begin answering those questions before the need arrives at our door.
I sometimes think back to that little boy living in two worlds: gifted education and special education. I could never have known where those worlds would lead. But that isn't the point of the story. I mattered before any of it happened. Before the degrees. Before the classrooms. Before the mission field or the pulpits. And so does the child who will walk into one of our churches next Sunday.
We don't know what that child will become, what she will accomplish or how independently he will someday live. We don't need to know. Scripture has already told us something far more important: Image bearer.
And when that person becomes part of Christ's church, Paul gives us another word. Not tolerated, burdensome, or merely accommodated.
Simply, Indispensable.
Sources and Further Reading
Genesis 1:26-27, humanity created in the image of God (imago Dei).
Mark 5:25-34, Jesus' encounter with the woman who had suffered from chronic bleeding and His restoration of her as “Daughter.”
1 Corinthians 12:12-27, the church as the body of Christ, particularly verse 22: “the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable.”
Even now, that sentence feels a little strange coming out of my mouth. Maybe that says something about me or about how people of my generation understood disability. Probably a little of both.
I was born with a club foot. My parents worked hard to make sure I never thought of myself as disabled. They expected me to participate, compete, work, and figure things out just like everyone else. I am grateful for that. But there were things my body could not do the way everyone else's could, and at various points I received special education services.
The strange thing was that I was also identified for gifted and talented education. I was a kid living in two educational worlds: special education over here, gifted education over there, and only one me standing between them.
I didn't grow up planning to become a special education teacher. Ministry came first. I began as an associate pastor of youth while completing my first master's degree in Christian Education. Along the way, I taught in a Christian school to help support my growing family.
Ministry eventually took me overseas as a missionary pastor in Belgium and later to Alaska. There, education found me again. While pastoring, I began substitute teaching and increasingly found myself working in special education classrooms. Something clicked. I had always been drawn toward under-served people and communities, so I returned to school, earned a master's degree in education with an emphasis in special education, and eventually became a certified Kentucky special education teacher.
For much of my adult life, ministry and education have crossed paths. I have stood in pulpits and classrooms and watched pastors try to understand families while teachers try to understand children. Perhaps that is why a question increasingly troubles me: Are our churches prepared for the children and families already coming through our doors?
The world in our classrooms has changed
In the 2022-23 school year, nearly 110,000 Kentucky children ages 3 to 21 were served under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, or IDEA. That represented about 16.6 percent of Kentucky's public-school enrollment. Put simply, roughly one out of every six Kentucky public-school students receive services under IDEA.
Autism presents an especially striking picture. According to the Kentucky Department of Education, autism accounted for 3.06 percent of Kentucky students with disabilities in 2008-09. By 2022-23, that percentage had risen to 9.99 percent, more than tripled in less than fifteen years.
Why autism identification has risen so dramatically is complicated. Better recognition, earlier screening, improved access to evaluation, and changes in diagnostic practices are all part of the discussion. For the local church, however, there is a simpler reality: These children are here. They live in our neighborhoods and attend our schools. Their families live and work in our communities. And on Sunday morning, some of them walk through our doors. What happens next?
When behavior is communication
One of the most important lessons I learned in special education is remarkably simple: Behavior is often communication. That doesn't mean inappropriate behavior never needs correction. It means that before responding, we should sometimes ask: What is this child trying to tell me?
A child covers his ears when the worship band begins. Another cannot stay seated during Bible study. A child rocks back and forth, screams when the class unexpectedly changes activities or refuses to make eye contact. To an untrained observer, those behaviors may look disrespectful or disruptive. They may actually be saying: This room is too loud. I don't understand what is happening. Something changed. I need to move. I am overwhelmed. I cannot tell you what I need.
Perhaps before we correct every behavior, we should learn to hear what some behaviors are saying. That isn't lowering standards. It is learning to see the person standing in front of us.
Whose image do they bear?
Christians rightly talk about the imago Dei, the image of God. Genesis tells us humanity was created in His image. I bear God's image. You bear God's image. But theological convictions become more revealing when they inconvenience us. What about the child with profound autism who does not communicate verbally? The teenager with Down syndrome? The adult with an intellectual disability who may never live independently? Do they bear God's image in precisely the same sense that I do?
The answer must be yes. Yet sometimes our churches function as though the answers were, “Yes, but...” Yes, but they cannot participate like everyone else. Yes, but children's church isn't equipped for them. Yes, but they can be disruptive. Yes, but our volunteers don't know what to do. The imago Dei cannot rest upon intelligence, verbal ability, emotional regulation, productivity or independence. The image of God is not awarded according to ability.
Neither was my value as a child determined by what I would later become. I eventually became a pastor, missionary and teacher. But none of that made me more valuable than I was as the little boy receiving special education and gifted services. Some children with disabilities will accomplish things that surprise everyone. Others will require significant assistance throughout their lives. Both bear the image of God. Their worth was settled before we ever measured their ability.
Wanting God but struggling with church
The research ought to get our attention. In one survey of 416 parents, nearly one-third reported changing their place of worship because their son or daughter with a disability was not welcomed or included. A 2025 study identified continuing barriers involving congregational attitudes, expectations for participation, volunteer capacity, available support, and communication.
Perhaps most troubling, a 2026 study of 330 Christian parents raising children with disabilities found that 74.3 percent said their faith had become more important, while 60.3 percent said their involvement in church had decreased. Think about that. Faith became more important while participation in the gathered church went the other direction.
Some families may not be walking away because God has become less important. They may be quietly walking away because participating in church with their child has become too difficult. That should bother us.
Jesus saw the person at the edge of the crowd
Mark 5 tells of a woman who had suffered from chronic bleeding for twelve years. Her condition carries consequences far beyond physical suffering. She approaches Jesus almost anonymously, wanting only to touch His garment. She is healed, but Jesus stops. Eventually she comes forward trembling, and Jesus calls her something remarkable: “Daughter.”
Jesus saw more than her condition. He saw her and restored someone stuck at the margins of relationship and community. I am not suggesting that autism, Down syndrome or intellectual disability should be treated like this woman's illness. The connection is not disability or disease. The connection is alienation and belonging.
Jesus has a habit of seeing people everyone else has learned to see sees primarily through their condition. The church that bears His name should do the same. There is a profound difference between saying, “You may attend our church,” and saying, “You belong to us.”
Paul takes it even further
Paul tells the Corinthian church: “The parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22). He doesn't say weaker members should merely be tolerated or graciously endured. He doesn't even stop at inclusion. He calls them indispensable. And notice the word before it: those who “seem” weaker. Seem weaker according to whom? According to IQ, speech, mobility, social skills, independence or the ability to sit quietly through a forty-minute sermon?
Paul challenges our measurements of strength. Tolerance says, You can stay. Accommodation says, We will make adjustments so you can participate. Inclusion says, There is a place for you here. Belonging says, This is your church too. But indispensability says: We are not the whole body without you. That is a radically Christian understanding of inclusion. We aren't trying to catch up with culture. We're trying to catch up with Paul.
Public schools have spent decades learning how to accommodate children with different educational, developmental and behavioral needs because IDEA requires them to. The church should not need a federal mandate. Scripture gave us a theology of imago Dei long before IDEA gave schools a mandate for accommodation. Schools are required to make room. Churches should want these families here.
What can we do next Sunday?
A pastor of a small church may think, “We don't have the staff or money for a special-needs ministry.” You may not need one. Not every church needs an elaborate program or an expensive sensory room. But every church can take steps toward belonging.
First, ask before assuming. Talk with the family. Ask what helps their child participate, what creates difficulty, and how their child communicates. Don't only ask, “What does your child need?” Ask, “What does your child love?”
Second, train one or two people. A small church doesn't need an army of specialists. Start with willing people who understand some basics about autism, sensory overload, intellectual disability, and emotional regulation. Teach them one sentence: Behavior is often communication.
Third, create flexibility before creating a program. A quiet corner, headphones, a visual schedule or permission to move while listening may accomplish more than an expensive room. Give families permission to step away when things become overwhelming and return without embarrassment.
Fourth, reconsider “good church behavior.” A child doesn't need to make eye contact to hear about Jesus. A child can move and still listen. Noise isn't always disrespect. A meltdown isn't necessarily rebellion. Sometimes our expectations need discipleship too.
Finally, move from helping people to needing people. If people with disabilities are always recipients of ministry, we have stopped short of Paul's vision. Discover their gifts. Let them serve and contribute. Instead of only asking, “How can we minister to them?” ask: “What has God placed in them that our church needs?” That is what we do with indispensable members.
Every church needs a plan for belonging.
I would love to see every Kentucky Baptist church intentionally wrestle with this. Not every church needs a special needs ministry. But every church needs a plan for belonging.
What happens when an autistic child comes next Sunday? When a family raising a child with Down syndrome walks through the door? When an adult with an intellectual disability wants to become part of the congregation? Who welcomes them? Who listens? Where can they participate? How will we discover their gifts? Will they remain people we minister to or become people with whom and through whom we minister? We should begin answering those questions before the need arrives at our door.
I sometimes think back to that little boy living in two worlds: gifted education and special education. I could never have known where those worlds would lead. But that isn't the point of the story. I mattered before any of it happened. Before the degrees. Before the classrooms. Before the mission field or the pulpits. And so does the child who will walk into one of our churches next Sunday.
We don't know what that child will become, what she will accomplish or how independently he will someday live. We don't need to know. Scripture has already told us something far more important: Image bearer.
And when that person becomes part of Christ's church, Paul gives us another word. Not tolerated, burdensome, or merely accommodated.
Simply, Indispensable.
Sources and Further Reading
- National Center for Education Statistics. “Number and percentage of children served under Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), Part B, by age group and state or jurisdiction: Selected school years, 1990-91 through 2022-23.” Digest of Education Statistics, Table 204.70. U.S. Department of Education. Kentucky reported 109,749 children ages 3-21 served under IDEA in 2022-23, representing 16.6 percent of public-school enrollment. NCES IDEA enrollment data
- Kentucky Department of Education. “Students Identified with Autism, Ages 5 (in Kindergarten) to 21, Served Under IDEA, Part B.” Kentucky data show that the percentage of students with disabilities identified with autism increased from 3.06 percent in 2008-09 to 9.99 percent in 2022-23. Kentucky autism data
- Ault, Melinda J., Belva C. Collins, and Erik W. Carter. “Congregational Participation and Supports for Children and Adults with Disabilities: Parent Perceptions.” Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities 51, no. 1 (2013): 48-61. doi:10.1352/1934-9556-51.01.048. Survey of 416 parents examining participation, inclusion, welcome and support for people with disabilities and their families in congregational life. University of Kentucky research record
- Carter, Erik W., Kari Maddox, Madeline Pettit, Shannon R. Eshman, Melody V. Escobar, Grace Casper, and Jason L. Le Shana. “Barriers to Belonging: The Church Experiences of Families of Children with Disabilities.” Review of Religious Research (2025). doi:10.1177/0034673X251386820. Interviews with parents identified 22 barriers across nine areas, including congregational attitudes, expectations for participation, volunteer capacity, available supports, gathering spaces and communication. Barriers to Belonging study
- Alford, Allison, et al. “Faith Matters: The Religious Lives of Christian Parents Raising Children with Disabilities in the USA.” Journal of Religion and Health (2026). doi:10.1007/s10943-026-02613-6. Study of 330 Christian parents examining religiosity, strength of faith, church participation and the experience of raising children with disabilities. Faith Matters study
- Carter, Erik W., Madeline Pettit, Kari Maddox, Melody V. Escobar, Shannon R. Eshman, Jason L. Le Shana, and Grace Casper. “Faithful Belonging: Supporting Families of Children with Disabilities in Church.” Religious Education 120, no. 5 (2025): 410-425. doi:10.1080/00344087.2025.2524976. Research focused on practices that help churches move beyond accessibility and inclusion toward meaningful belonging for children with disabilities and their families. Erik Carter's faith and disability research bibliography
Genesis 1:26-27, humanity created in the image of God (imago Dei).
Mark 5:25-34, Jesus' encounter with the woman who had suffered from chronic bleeding and His restoration of her as “Daughter.”
1 Corinthians 12:12-27, the church as the body of Christ, particularly verse 22: “the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable.”
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