Meeting Jesus in my son's disability
In his book, Beyond Loneliness. The Gift of God's Friendship, pastor Trevor Hudson states that from scripture we know that "the unpredictable God can surprise us in all things, in all places, and in all situations... His risen and ascended presence, as the writer to the Ephesians puts it, fills the entire universe." (Eph. 4:10) Nonetheless, he proceeds, "there are some special Gospel addresses where our Divine Friend promises to meet us." (p 74)
According to Hudson, the first of these addresses, or places, is Communion. "Indeed, in Holy Communion, Jesus Christ tells us he wants our friendship." (p. 75)
While some churches believe the bread and wine in Communion literally become Jesus' body and blood, my church tradition sees them only as symbols pointing to his death, resurrection, and second coming. Therefore I used to approach Communion, or the Lord's Supper as we call it, simply as something we do "in remembrance of him." Pastor Hudson's reflection has helped me see this ordinance as an invitation to come near Jesus, to have a personal encounter right there and then with him as I eat the bread and drink the wine in remembrance of him.
The second address where Jesus meets us is in the friendship of others, particularly those we may consider soul-friends. "Through them, Christ's risen presence meets us. As such, those friendships represent a Gospel address we need to visit as often as we can." (p. 78) A soul-friend is someone with whom I can reflect on my friendship with God.
The third address, and the reason for this essay, is the least of these.
Hudson reminds us that Jesus spent most of his time with people who were struggling in one way or another. "He reaches out to the lonely. He includes the excluded. He feeds the hungry. He heals the sick. He brings peace to the chaotic. He comforts the grieving." (p. 79) And as Matthew 25:31-40 states, whatever we do for the least of these brothers and sisters of Jesus, we do for him. "Every act of mercy done for someone who suffers is therefore also a direct kindness to Christ..." (p. 79) We thus meet Jesus in the least of these.
My second son is among the least of these. Being born with a chromosomal abnormality as severe as trisomy 13 changed the course of his life. The normal path and goals we come to expect cannot be followed nor be reached. In a society that values achievements and worships beauty, my son and others like him are at the bottom, and they will never amount to much. Success for them is not in the cards. Some may view them as a burden to society.
My son has profound developmental delays. He drools and wears diapers at 6 years of age. He cannot sit, let alone walk. When Caleb was born, Jesus met me, and he gently exposed my prejudices. Mixed with my love, I felt shame. I felt disappointment and anger. My son would not meet the expectations of society---my own expectations. Jesus helped me face the ugliness of my thoughts without condemnation. He understood because he knows our hearts. But more than anything, he revealed his deep love for Caleb and others like him. He told me he loved him as he loved Martha, Maria, and their brother Lazarus. He showed me that while others may reject the lame and the sick and the nobodies, he never did and he never would. He was not afraid to touch the leper nor was he disgusted. He is not afraid to touch my son and would gladly wipe his mouth and change his diapers.
Jesus told me he grieved with me. He said he saw my pain, and that it hurt him too, just like when he saw the woman cry over her only son. He is sorry that our society does not understand--- "Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." He also told me this had not been his will. The brokenness of this world is not what he intended for us--- "An enemy has done this." He said he would be with me--- "In this world you will have affliction, but I am with you always." He told me this is not how it all ends--- "Never again will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days..."
These realizations carried me during some of the darkest moments of my life---When I feared my son would die... When I feared the unknown world of disability... When I feared what people might say... When I became angry at the well-intended words of consolation which painted a picture that did not substantiate the fragile faith I had recently found... When people resorted to clichés that put the blame on God---"Surely it was his plan, surely there is a reason, surely God will not give you more than you can bear."
I confess that over the years I began to question these realizations. The state of the world seems to contradict the idea of a God near us and for us. But once again it helps to look at Jesus and his words and, more than anything his actions, to know what God is like. God is not found in those clichés. God is found in Jesus, and Jesus reveals his heart, among other ways, in the tender compassion he displays for the least of these.
According to Hudson, the first of these addresses, or places, is Communion. "Indeed, in Holy Communion, Jesus Christ tells us he wants our friendship." (p. 75)
While some churches believe the bread and wine in Communion literally become Jesus' body and blood, my church tradition sees them only as symbols pointing to his death, resurrection, and second coming. Therefore I used to approach Communion, or the Lord's Supper as we call it, simply as something we do "in remembrance of him." Pastor Hudson's reflection has helped me see this ordinance as an invitation to come near Jesus, to have a personal encounter right there and then with him as I eat the bread and drink the wine in remembrance of him.
The second address where Jesus meets us is in the friendship of others, particularly those we may consider soul-friends. "Through them, Christ's risen presence meets us. As such, those friendships represent a Gospel address we need to visit as often as we can." (p. 78) A soul-friend is someone with whom I can reflect on my friendship with God.
The third address, and the reason for this essay, is the least of these.
Hudson reminds us that Jesus spent most of his time with people who were struggling in one way or another. "He reaches out to the lonely. He includes the excluded. He feeds the hungry. He heals the sick. He brings peace to the chaotic. He comforts the grieving." (p. 79) And as Matthew 25:31-40 states, whatever we do for the least of these brothers and sisters of Jesus, we do for him. "Every act of mercy done for someone who suffers is therefore also a direct kindness to Christ..." (p. 79) We thus meet Jesus in the least of these.
My second son is among the least of these. Being born with a chromosomal abnormality as severe as trisomy 13 changed the course of his life. The normal path and goals we come to expect cannot be followed nor be reached. In a society that values achievements and worships beauty, my son and others like him are at the bottom, and they will never amount to much. Success for them is not in the cards. Some may view them as a burden to society.
My son has profound developmental delays. He drools and wears diapers at 6 years of age. He cannot sit, let alone walk. When Caleb was born, Jesus met me, and he gently exposed my prejudices. Mixed with my love, I felt shame. I felt disappointment and anger. My son would not meet the expectations of society---my own expectations. Jesus helped me face the ugliness of my thoughts without condemnation. He understood because he knows our hearts. But more than anything, he revealed his deep love for Caleb and others like him. He told me he loved him as he loved Martha, Maria, and their brother Lazarus. He showed me that while others may reject the lame and the sick and the nobodies, he never did and he never would. He was not afraid to touch the leper nor was he disgusted. He is not afraid to touch my son and would gladly wipe his mouth and change his diapers.
Jesus told me he grieved with me. He said he saw my pain, and that it hurt him too, just like when he saw the woman cry over her only son. He is sorry that our society does not understand--- "Forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." He also told me this had not been his will. The brokenness of this world is not what he intended for us--- "An enemy has done this." He said he would be with me--- "In this world you will have affliction, but I am with you always." He told me this is not how it all ends--- "Never again will there be in it an infant who lives but a few days..."
These realizations carried me during some of the darkest moments of my life---When I feared my son would die... When I feared the unknown world of disability... When I feared what people might say... When I became angry at the well-intended words of consolation which painted a picture that did not substantiate the fragile faith I had recently found... When people resorted to clichés that put the blame on God---"Surely it was his plan, surely there is a reason, surely God will not give you more than you can bear."
I confess that over the years I began to question these realizations. The state of the world seems to contradict the idea of a God near us and for us. But once again it helps to look at Jesus and his words and, more than anything his actions, to know what God is like. God is not found in those clichés. God is found in Jesus, and Jesus reveals his heart, among other ways, in the tender compassion he displays for the least of these.
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