There is a well known story about a Jewish family that I heard when I was very young. It was a story about a young boy named Joseph, his father Jacob, and his many brothers. If you have not heard it, you can listen to it HERE.
But to make the story short… Joseph was heavily favored by his father, Jacob. His brothers became very jealous of him and soon plotted for his death. They would lower him eventually into a dried up old well with the thoughts of leaving him there to die. Of course, there is more to the story. It is often so easy to want to skip ahead in Joseph’s journey of life, but it is here in the well that I find myself wanting to pause.
How long do you suppose he was left down at the bottom of that well? What must it have been like for Joseph staring up into the sky helplessly from the bottom of this dark and closed in well? Did he feel like he was alone, forgotten, and that this would be his end; that his life would soon be over and found himself wishing he could simply end it even more quickly? How must he of felt about his family, the world, and God? What did he maybe confront, wrestle with, or feel about in his own identity, dignity, and life – his sense of success, failure, and loss? Did he have any hope?
I have been in a wheelchair since injuring my spinal cord in a car accident in 1994 at the age of 15. Over the last several decades I have experienced life both within and out of the bottom of the well while asking many of the same similar questions Joseph did centuries ago. If I were to to offer three lenses to shape these life long questions, they would be:
- What does the concept and language of disability mean to me and others?
- Where can we find dignity in our lives and sense of personhood?
- How can we nurture hope for today and the future?
That is where this conversation is beginning… At The Bottom Of The Well. There is no promises as to where this journey might take us and in some of these postings, it may just be ramblings of my own internal wrestling. But I have felt a real need for our society to grow more aware of what it means to be disabled in the eyes of God. To find a greater voice in the dignity of the disabled life to see the glory of God within it. And to disciple those with physical disabilities to find a gospel of hope that offers promise in the life of today and not just in the resurrection to come.
Disabled
Perhaps strangely, even though I have lived most of my life in a wheelchair, I continue to grow in what it means to be disabled. As I look back, I realize that many who struggle with physical loss and disability also travel a similar road of disabled maturity. And even within my community, there are those who are not sure just how to define it or understand how our spirituality impacts that understanding. Many of us resign any calling or roll in the church because we accept the “norm” of insignificance – being disabled simply means we are the “needy” and are not part of the “called”.
The Church also greatly struggles to see the role and significance of the disabled within its calling. I think often at best, the church chooses to see the disabled as a mission field rather than being part of the called into the mission field. And at worst, the church ignores the disabled within the outer community seeing them as not part of the inner congregation and therefore insignificant to their calling.
For this reason, I feel deeply passionate about growing myself, the disabled alongside me, and the church by redefining and emboldening the definition of what it means to be disabled in the eyes of God.
Dignity
We live in a culture that for the last decade plus has struggled with the question of, “What does it mean to die with dignity?“ It is a very valid and important question. But, the problem particularly for the disabled community, is that we have been so polarized and caught up in the gravitas of this question that we have forgotten and lost sight of any of the other important questions like, “What does it mean to live with dignity?“
Jesus’s disciples asked 2000 years ago about the blind man on the side of the road, “Why is this man born blind?” This is a question about purpose, significance, and dignity. It seems so revealing when Jesus gives dignity to the man in saying he shows the glory of God even while still being blind and not just after being healed. For so long the church seems to still teach this message in the context of glory only being seen after his healing. I still remember and carry the scares of when I was told I was unwelcome to speak within a church unless I could get out of my wheelchair and walk up to the pulpit on stage.
It cannot be ignored that ablism has greatly eroded our understanding of human dignity within a life of disability, and I don’t believe the church is excluded from that truth. But nor is it excluded within the disabled community as we struggle to face the challenges of life while desiring to feel important and significant to ourselves and our neighbours. Even more threatening is a “gospel” promising healing in resurrection within a society that preaches dying with “dignity”.
Somehow, I feel like rather than the church simply trying to keep the disabled in the background of social participation, we need to raise them up to a more visible presence in community life to find greater confidence and inspiration in our human dignity and embodiment of Christ. If anything, we cannot just always show the stone being rolled away; we must also show the cross being raised up to which leads to the power of Christian dignity.
Hope
Lastly, we need a message of hope for those with physical disabilities. Hope in a place where we belong, where we find kinship and peer connection, and where we can share openly with those who are going through similar experiences.
Many of us who struggle with physical disabilities end up spending the greater parts of life within our own home where we do not see others like ourselves. After the last several years I have recognized that by being around others who have gone through similar experiences, I find encouragement, inspiration, and hope while listening to their stories. Recognizing others around me with similar feelings and struggles as part of the disabled life has given me a sense of knowing that I am not alone and the difficulties I face are not abnormal to theirs.
Admittingly, this is probably one of the greater reasons I desire to see At The Bottom Of The Well grow in the greater community – I desire to find hope in a community that reflects my same physical embodiment of disability and relationship with Jesus.
Join me if you like, and maybe journey with me if you find yourself also… At The Bottom Of The Well.
At The Bottom Of The Well 