As the world shut down in early March of 2020, the first couple of weeks came as a bit of a strange blur to many of us. Between watching the news, shopping for supplies, and checking in on friends and coworkers, I’ll confess that the first Sunday I sat on my sofa and watched church from the computer was a bit of a novelty—a reprieve from the headlines and spinning decisions of the week. I had a Bible on my lap with my favorite throw blanket, and it was cozy—like a snow day when you’re a kid.
As March dragged on and it became evident this shutdown wouldn’t just be a week or two, I remember remarking to a friend how apt it would be if God allowed us all to gather back for the first time on Easter Sunday. What a fitting metaphor that would be.
What I Missed
As Easter came and went, so did the charm of sitting on my sofa and watching the flat, anemic service. I could see my pastor’s face glowing from the screen, but he couldn’t see me nodding my head along in encouragement.
I even missed the humbling reminder of how much more I am like the grumbly disciples than like our Savior when I feeling slightly annoyed at noisy kids sitting around me. I missed being charmed by their hugs and their funny gift of a crayon portrait on the way out. I didn’t have those awkward small talk encounters during the “shake hands” portion of the service that build true friendships through the years.
“As I rejoiced to slowly get to come back together again, I began to wonder: What if this wasn’t just a year of my life but how things always were?”
As the year went on, I began to feel more and more like I was walking with a slight spiritual limp that only worsened with time. The only metaphors I could grasp felt weak, stiff, and dehydrated. I was gulping in sermons on podcasts to make up for the apparent lack of corporate worship services and heard one on a verse I’d never fully understood—blessed are the poor in spirit. That had never so deeply resonated with me before. I realized that’s exactly what I was—poor in spirit.
As I rejoiced to slowly get to come back together again—from cautious fistbumps to hugs and meals together, I began to wonder: What if this wasn’t just a year of my life but how things always were?
We were never supposed to live this way—as the disembodied body.
Considering Someone’s Old “Normal”
The bumpy but crucial accommodations made for everyone in the time of Covid-19 were slowly returning back to “normal.” Our church had shown how we can quickly adjust and accommodate. Only, we hadn’t been very accommodating before—at least not until it affected all of us.
I thought of my friend Kay* whose daughter was born with a physical disability. She once told me she hasn’t been to church in a decade because there’s no Sunday school class at their local church to accommodate her daughter’s body and equipment.
“ Our church had shown how we can quickly adjust and accommodate. Only, we hadn’t been very accommodating before.”
I thought of a godly lady I know who is practiced in the Scriptures but cannot physically sit through an hour-long service. Instead, she ends up standing in the back at Bible study.
I thought of an author I follow on Twitter, a single widowed mother, who often shares the challenges her disabled children face in the world. Unfortunately, these challenges are usually no better—and may in fact be worse—at church than they are in other public spaces they interact.
I thought of those that stay away from church—not because church wasn’t a priority for them but because they weren’t a priority for us.
I wish it hadn’t taken a global pandemic for me to take this seriously and personally, but now that I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it.
What Can We Do?
Since then, I’ve been reading books and articles online, following disability advocates on social media, and asking friends with experience what challenges and advice they could share.
Here are some practical tips I’ve learned. This list is by no means exhaustive, but hopefully, it can get us all thinking about areas we’ve overlooked. These are our brothers and sisters, and these are our mission field, ripe unto harvest.
Some of these changes will be easier to accomplish. Others might take years to enact, but I pray you also can begin to see what you may have missed.
1. Install a ramp onto the stage.
Having no ramp sends the message that we don’t expect there to be anyone with a disability on the stage at church—not in the pulpit, on the praise team, or sharing a prayer or a testimony.
2. Consider diversity in leadership and decision-making.
When we think of diversity, we tend to think of race. This kind of diversity is good to think of as you consider who is on your church’s elder boards, deacons, trustees, and committees. But we should also consider whether there is any other diversity at the table in the form of education, economic background, physical, or mental abilities. When there is no diversity on our church’s leadership page, we may send the message that “godly” looks like one thing.
Including those with disabilities on your leadership boards and committees will also ensure considerations are taken into account when building plans are drawn up, parking issues are solved, holiday services are planned, and new staff is called.
3. Make the exits as inconspicuous as possible.
This means if you are in a temporary-type building like an auditorium, don’t set the stage up to where attendees have to walk in front of the central action to exit. Make sure the chairs and rows are far enough apart so people can move in and out easily. This can also mean simple adjustments like making sure doors fit well and open and close quietly. Oil the door hinges. Make sure it’s neither embarrassing nor distracting to enter or exit when a service is in session.
4. Have bathrooms on every floor where you have services or activities.
Bathroom concerns came up time and time again as I talked with churchgoers—from the elderly to families with children. Have more bathrooms than you think you might need. Make sure these are clearly marked and easy to find for visitors. More than one church I have been a member of only has had one bathroom. Sometimes, it’s a singular, unisex restroom in an out-of-the-way location. I can’t imagine the message this sends to anyone with limited mobility or continence.
5. Take careful consideration when making “home groups” the main focus of any small group or fellowship ministry.
\Private homes can be difficult for congregants with food allergies, physical disabilities, or anxiety disorders. If your church has a building, use it! Let the neighborhood see how often there are cars in your parking lot and wonder, “What’s up at that place? I should check it out sometime.”
6. Have a plan for children with physical or cognitive disabilities.
Assign a dedicated volunteer on the schedule to be the SNH (“special needs helper”) each Sunday. This not only allows for a one-on-one relationship with the child who might need extra time or attention, it also allows teachers, children, and parents a tremendous amount of peace of mind. It signals to the family that we’re expecting them and welcome them here. If your teachers receive extra training to accommodate children with special needs, note it on your church’s website. There might be those in the community who would love to worship with you but who are unsure if you will welcome their children.
7. Take care at special holiday services.
These are often “family” services without childcare, so be mindful. Do not ask members to “fill in the rows” or “move up a few rows” even in full holiday service. This is well-meaning to allow latecomers to slide in as inconspicuously as possible. Instead, you can have greeters and ushers welcome latecomers in and show them where seats are still available. Some attendees have come despite challenges and choose to sit in the back because that’s the only place they’re comfortable. It could have taken every effort they had to get there, and the pressure to move may dissuade them from returning
8. Stick to easy-to-read fonts in the church bulletin.
Select no more than two different fonts total, and make sure they’re large enough to read easily. This is not only good marketing advice but also considerate of those with visual impairments.
9. Include transcription.
If you’re posting your services online, use the video transcription service available so the videos are captioned for the hearing impaired.
10. Find good resources.
Read Lamar Hardwick’s new release Disability and the Church and listen to others who have experienced disability firsthand.
11. Be humble.
I’m certain in my nascent state of learning, I’ve embarrassingly gotten terminology or specifics wrong here. But don’t give up. Keep asking questions. Begin with just one of the above suggestions, and consider how that might work in your church.
Ginger Horton is the daughter of a Baptist minister which means she can’t remember two Sundays in a row in her life she wasn’t at church, until this year that is. Now she’s wife to a Navy man, which means she has had the unique privilege of having been a member of eight different churches in eight different states in her lifetime and filled out enough visitor cards that she supposes even the world itself could not contain the books that would fill. Despite all this, she loves the church with a fierceness.
*names have been changed to protect privacy, with thanks to these and so many more who have patiently shared and taught me through their words and experiences