Earlier this school year, we received news that every parent fears. Our son’s special education teacher was discovered to be an unsafe person and was immediately removed from the school. While she was not causing long term-harm to the children, she was being physically rough with students, including my son, when they were noncompliant.
While I am grateful that the issue was resolved swiftly and without any major negative repercussions, it triggered the grief known all too well to special needs parents. In the days that followed, that grief was a raging river, with streams of anger and anxiety strengthening the current. While every child is vulnerable to abuse and mistreatment, children with disabilities are exponentially more so, and this incident affirmed every fear that has ever entered my mind regarding his safety and future.
Eventually, through lament, community, worship, prayer, and counseling, that raging river slowed to a steady stream. But as I waited for the stream to dry up, I came to realize that for me, and many special needs parents, it never does. Instead, it remains a slow and steady current, carrying questions that may never be answered and a degree of loneliness that never quite dissipates.
When I share this, other believers are often quick to remind me of the truth from Scripture-namely, that every person is fearfully and wonderfully made and that God loves my son more than I could ever imagine. While I appreciate the sentiment and do agree with these statements, I believe that it is vital to ground ourselves in the both/and of reality.
Yes, my son is loved dearly by the Lord, and I am certain that he has a plan for his life. But I am also certain that disabilities, visible and invisible, are a form of suffering. Without a doubt, his life is no less valuable than someone who is neurotypical, but in many ways it is more difficult. This “both/and” has to be our starting point.
Why is this so important? Because everything that sin and suffering touch grieves the heart of God. If God did not care about the effects of the Fall, he would have left us as we were, doomed to millennia of misery and condemnation. But because of his love and compassion, he sent Jesus to make a way for us to be free from sin and, one day, to be free from suffering.
While our justification, and thus ultimate freedom from sin, is immediate upon a profession of faith, freedom from suffering is not. As long as we are on this earth, we will feel its effects. But followers of Jesus have the promise that when we are united with him, we will also have that freedom from pain and sorrow. While I currently grieve over the uncertainty that I may not be able to hold long, deep conversations with my son in this life, I have lasting hope and confidence that through Jesus, we will have those conversations in the life to come. In heaven, no longer will my son struggle through sensory overload and traumatic triggers; he will live fully free and fully healed of those difficulties.
The gospel teaches that each person, regardless of ability, has dignity and value and is an image-bearer of God himself. Where the harsher parts of our world look down on those who are in need, God and his people see them as precious and treasured citizens of his Kingdom. Further, Jesus taught that the upside-down Kingdom of God belongs to “the least of these.” In other words, those whom our cruel world marginalizes and looks down upon, are honored and celebrated.
But not only is there hope for what is to come; there is hope in the here and now. By looking at our families through the lens of the gospel, we can acknowledge and grieve the suffering that we come face to face with every day. God does not minimize our sorrow, but affirms it and shows us the way forward, walking with us every step of the way.
The avenues I previously listed through which the Lord enabled me to process our difficult news are evidence of his grace to us. He does not whack us over the head with a Bible and tell us to believe he is good, but he provides us with tangible tools to receive his love and care. Through lament, we have an outlet to express our emotions and choose to trust God. Through community, we are reminded that we are not alone in our struggles. Through studying the Word, we understand the heart of God. Through prayer, we have direct access to his ear. Through counseling, we receive practical tools and encouragement. Through worship, our eyes are lifted to the One who is capable of redeeming all for our good and his glory.
Before I conclude, I want to acknowledge that every person and family has their own unique set of circumstances. How disabilities and special needs affect my son and our family will never be exactly the same as another family’s. In fact, I am certain that some of you have children who have profound autism and other special needs that far exceed our experience. Others need a lower level of support, and you may not share the same concerns that I do. The application of the gospel will also vary from person to person and family to family, and I couldn’t hope to speak to each of your particular contexts in this simple blog post. But I am confident that the gospel does indeed apply to every one of those contexts and that in Jesus there is hope and healing.
If you are a special needs parent, you have never been and never will be alone in your journey. He does not chastise you for that steady stream of grief, but wades through the waters with you. Jesus is a faithful friend, wonderful counselor, and ever-present help in times of need. In him, we have lasting hope in this life and the one to come.
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