In reality, all of us “healthy” or “normal” people can more aptly call ourselves, “the temporarily able-bodied.”
Theologian, sociologist, and author Nancy Eiesland was wheelchair bound since childhood. She surprised many when she said she hoped to be disabled in heaven. She died at age 44 of congenital lung cancer, but not before she made huge inroads for the Rights and Dignity of the Disabled, and penned a groundbreaking book about understanding disability, and suffering, in light of God, and his nature.
Nancy Eiesland 1965-2009
Article excerpt on Eiesland from the “Scotsman” publication:
By the time of her death, Eiesland had come to believe God was disabled, a view she articulated in her influential 1994 book, The Disabled God: Toward a Liberatory Theology of Disability. She pointed to the scene described in Luke 24:36-39 in which the risen Jesus invites his disciples to touch his wounds.
“In presenting his impaired body to his startled friends, the resurrected Jesus is revealed as the disabled God,” she wrote. God remains a God the disabled can identify with, she argued – he is not cured and made whole; his injury is part of him, neither a divine punishment nor an opportunity for healing. FULL ARTICLE HERE
Nathan, like many who experience Autism, often doesn't like having his picture taken. (Later, he saw this photo, and thought it was funny.)
Currently I am taking a rather fascinating class delving into the topic of God and Suffering, called “The Theology of Suffering.” For my final project, I am taking on a specific topic under that category–Disability.
I’m endeavoring to uncover questions like, “Why does God allow children, and adults, to suffer with disabilities?” “Is disability part of God’s plan, or part of what’s broken and wrong in the world?” “What place do the “disabled” have in “God’s Story”?” “How can care-givers of those with disabilities view this type of suffering in light of what God has done, what he is doing, and what he will do?” And some other questions.
In 2001, when my son started to struggle with a rather severe case of regressive autism, I wondered not just what was going on with him, but why? What was the point? I have to say, it all seemed like a mistake. My faith was shaken; not because I thought I should be able to have the child of my dreams, (this was a sad part of it too,) but because seeing my child suffer so badly made me question what God was really like. After a period of grieving, I had to find out more.
Nathan made a paper Nativity set at Christmas
Our son went from meeting all his developmental milestones ahead of time (rolling over, sitting, walking, talking), to not even answering to his own name for days on end, not reacting to pain in any normal way, not speaking to us, and not even calling us “Mommy” and “Daddy” any longer. I didn’t know where to turn, on many levels, and I wondered why God would want to kill me by breaking my heart, day-by-day, as my son sank into frustration, fear, pain, and despair. At times I felt hopeless.
We don’t live near family, and I’d like to say our church, and other Christians, were helpful, but almost no one reached out in any way that was truly or consistently supportive, or meaningful. Experiencing disability and struggle has a way of isolating us, and creating more hopelessness to wade through.
Instead, the opposite can be true. The disabled have much to teach us about hospitality, a characteristic of God, both individually and as a community.
The primary text I’m reading for my research is Vulnerable Communion: A Theology of Disability and Hospitality by Thomas E. Reynolds. What an interesting book!
Vulnerable Communion: A Theology of Disability and Hospitality -Thomas E. Reynolds
Here are a few nuggets I’ve gathered:
• The “disabled” are a picture of human weakness and vulnerability, from which we can learn about the human condition, and God himself. They teach us about the goal of Reliance, versus our misguided and typical goal of “independence.”
• These people are at the center of God’s love, and made in God’s image, they display attributes of God. They help us to see the true nature of God–One who made himself weaker and vulnerable, and still is vulnerable to us. (This vulnerability is epitomized in the historical event, and saving action of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross at Calvary.)
• The “disabled” give us the opportunity to learn, practice, and experience hospitality, and “do for God” (Matt: 25:40 “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!”)
This is a topic close to my heart. Uncovering more about it has helped me to not just understand my son, and his struggles better, but to understand God, his character, and his intentions.
Now I’m wondering, “Is it time to write a book on this?”
Please leave your thoughts on this topic, or comment in any way.
When best-selling Blue Like Jazz (by Donald Miller) came out, lots of Christians ooed and awed about how insightful, witty, and clever Don was. I liked the book, a lot actually. But still, I couldn’t help feeling like hmm, how did this happen? Don has a knack for writing a funny memoir–and lucky for him, it was slightly before he could be reprimanded for making it sound–basically–like a blog. That’s all well and good, but, is it the funny we all crave? Not exactly. Is he super funny? Will his wit make you pee your pants?
Well, I conducted test after test, on a full bladder, and found that, no, a hefty chortle was pretty much the maximum laugh for my buck (about $13.) Don’t get me wrong, I think Don’s great. He’s great in a lumpy, comfortable, wingman with baggage kind of way. That’s fine. We all need our projects. One of mine is pitying him, and I also like to see what he’s up to next, because it’s usually interesting. I just like the guy.
But then here comes Jon Acuff. He’s a whole different species. If you compare Robin Williams to former supreme court judge, Sandra Day O’Connor, you’ll start to get an idea of what I mean about just how incomparably fun, whacky, and talented Jon is. Sandra, you’re fine, but don’t try too hard, ok? Don, pace yourself, you’ll be just fine.
So, I pre-oreder Jon’s “Stuff Christians Like” book (for under 8$) assuming it couldn’t meet up with all the hype. But it TOTALLY did! I won’t go into the testing process with too much detail, but I’ll just say, sometimes I read it while using the bathroom. (It’s a two birds with one stone kind of thing.)
My mascot/partner and I have developed a new ratings system for all epically wonderful things, and Jon’s book (which includes his blog from whence it came) is now quality-tested, and officially approved.
Jon Acuff's "Stuff Christians Like" earns 95% + approval rating!
What could get 100% Liger Approval you might be thinking? I don’t mind the question, actually.
Maybe the Bible? Or the Book of Common Prayer? No, apparently they wouldn’t. I don’t exactly know what Liger’s like. They are strange creatures with hopes, dreams, and moods I have no way of understanding.
It’s a rather vague system. However I can tell you Blue Like Jazz got 88.4 %, so that should tell you something.
Hope you get to read Jon’s book soon. Tell us what you think. That will be what it’s truly like… when the doves cry.
(If you didn’t read the book, that last part won’t be hysterical, and you’re probably going to feel left out. I’m – Sorry. Though I care about how you feel, I don’t make the rules about how you may or may not react emotionally to this sort of thing. Don Miller used to say, “Buying something makes you feel new.” Yes, he may have meant “new” in a false sense. But you’ll never know until you buy Jon’s book, now will you?)
I asked her to guest post here, and she also sent me a couple of books to give away! I’m going to be honest and tell you, I’m reading one of them, and I’ll give it away, when I’m ready. I really enjoy Sarah’s writing.
She is also the author of Dear Church: Letters From a Disillusioned Generation, a high school teacher, frequent speaker, wife to Mr. C, mom to Justus, the wonder baby, and keeper of a frenetic (aren’t they all) Jack Russell terrier, Wrigley. This is among many other accomplishments, but I only have so much space, and time, before you click away, with that short attention span of yours. Read here, to learn more, at her site.
If you would like to try for a copy of Picking Dandelions, here’s what to do.
1) Click the link to her website (above).
2) Learn 3 new things about Sarah.
3) Post them in the leave a comment section.
Rules/Tips: You can’t repeat anyone else’s item. (So, hurry, because the first people will get the good ones.) The person with the best eye for detail may be selected, but whimsy will give you bonus points. Go for it!
Sarah Cunningham
Guest Post from SARAH:
On Change
Dear readers of the lovely Lisa Colon Delay.
I’m going to let you in on a little secret.
Just because I wrote a book on change doesn’t mean I’m good at changing.
You might even say I’m bad at it.
Resistance to change is not necessarily a good quality when it comes to faith.
But sometimes I’m lazy.
Not changing just seems easier.
Its easier to view conversion as an event frozen in time, tucked away with Shrinky Dinks, glow worms, and other relics from the 1980s (or whatever decade you came to the faith).
Its more convenient to leave conversion there, during that one shining moment when we turned to God, than to continue to lug the light around where it might inadvertently illuminate things that still need changing.
This is what we tell ourselves anyways.
That its easier to let ourselves off the hook when our flaws rear their heads.
Its easier to protect our pride.
To keep being a little bit controlling.
To insist losing our temper is just the “way we are”.
Changing those sorts of things takes too much energy.
It costs too much.
Not changing is just cheaper.
Or is it?
It sorta depends on how you calculate the cost.
After all, our lack of change is probably costing someone.
Like the people who have to smack into the wall of our pride on a daily basis.
Like the family or friends or co-workers we manipulate.
Like the wounded left in the wake of our temper tantrums.
There is also, of course, the cost to ourselves.
The damage to the life God intended for us.
A life that is a little more scarred, a little more strained, a little more convoluted.
A cheapened version of the life-to-the-full Jesus said he came to bring.
So we sidestep the cost of personal reflection and hard work to confront our flaws.
But do all those times when we cheap-skate change end up being more expensive in the end?
What do you think? Can Christians afford the luxury of unchanged living?
Each separate life of worship, whatever its outward expression, in so far as it is truly cleansed of egoism and bent upon God, is part of this one eternal Eucharistic action of the Logos incarnate in the world: and this fact strips the Christian life of prayer of all petty subjectivism, all tendency to mere religious self-culture, and confers upon it the dignity of the Real.
