Access vs. Belonging

““He will answer them, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.’”

Matthew 25:45 MSG

The longer I parent a child with additional needs and disabilities, the more I am coming across this issue, both inside and outside the Church. And I think it’s part of a bigger issue around comfort. Our own comfort. Being comfortable. 

Access doesn’t require our comfort to be challenged. Sometimes it causes logistical difficulties or financial implication but we can keep it at a purely transactional level. 

Access does look like lifts and wider doors to allow wheelchairs. But it also looks like interpreters for those who speak other languages (including sign languages), captions on screens to support language being used, large print available without a fuss. It looks like 1-2-1 support for someone with learning difficulties, sensory spaces for those who can’t cope with the regular spaces we use that can often be overwhelming, Changing Places facilities to ensure everyone who needs intimate care support can access facilities to meet those needs. 

The list of physical ways we can make our churches accessible is long. There are those who argue it’s endless and we’d be meeting needs that aren’t present in our current Church family, so why bother? We bother because love bothers! We listen and we learn and we try to meet needs because Love bothers. 

But access and meeting needs don’t automatically equate to belonging. Belonging goes much deeper. It speaks of having value and a place, being seen, being missed, being included, being sought out. Belonging is more than just a couple of hours in a Church setting. It’s follow up, follow through, getting alongside. 

And that’s where we get uncomfortable. We would rather do all of those things with people who are like us…people who we like. People who may share our sense of humour or our choice of recreation. People who make our lives fun and who are a joy to spend time with. Then when they are going through something tricky, we all pull together and lift up their arms and support them. Because they’re our people. Because even when it’s hard, they’re easy. 

But what about the people who aren’t easy? The people who do sometimes need our access arrangements? The people who don’t think the way we do, don’t talk the way we do, don’t share the same interests or beliefs or language or culture? We can make an effort, but if we’re honest, sometimes we don’t get much out of it. It doesn’t get easier. We don’t find that jewel that’s worth digging for and pushing through the hard for. It’s not fun. 

And if we’re brutally honest, we stop trying. We pass them on to someone else and we believe we’re seeking their best with someone more experienced, more patient, someone “in charge.” But if we get real, what we’re actually seeking is our best…our comfortable place…our easy answer. 

Worse still, we don’t challenge people on this. We don’t address the elephant in the room. Because we’re worried people might take offence and leave the church if we ask them; are they doing what Jesus would have them do? We’re more worried about their seat than their heart. 

What if we were seeking to become like the One we’re there to worship in the first place? Jesus sought to spend time with the lowest of the low, the outcasts of society, the beggars, the prostitutes, the tax collectors. His disciples were those whom society deemed unworthy of time and care and inclusion. Jesus saw them through the eyes of His Father…they are created in His image, loved by Him, created on purpose for a purpose, placed in this time and location with deliberate care and attention. 

Are we willing to see those around us who are different to us through our Father’s eyes? Are we willing to put aside our own discomfort and preference for how we spend our time and choose to be someone who values and esteems those for whom others may provide access but not belonging? Are we willing to do it if we never see any benefit for ourselves? Are we willing to make someone’s life richer by truly embracing them into our lives and not just paying lip service?

Because whatever their needs are, they notice. They notice when no one makes any attempt to include them. They notice how easily people include others who are alike and enrich their lives. They notice that they never hear from people from one week to the next. They notice the social engagements people talk about that they were not included in. They feel that loneliness deeply. And a welcome and access that never extends beyond two hours on a Sunday doesn’t lead to them feeling part of the family. It feels disingenuous. It feels inauthentic. It hurts. 

Their Father notices, too. And He weeps with them. 

And when our words and our actions don’t match, it’s our hearts that are at fault. Soon enough, people stop believing the message of your lips when the message of your actions speaks a different narrative more loudly. 

Jesus left people better than He found them. He came for the least, the last and the lost. He didn’t care what the personal cost was to Himself or His reputation or His comfort. He was about His Father’s business. Even unto death. 

Where would Jesus be? With the people whose company He most enjoyed? Or with those who needed His love the most?

My comfort. My comfortable. I’m not excluded from this. I’m not above it. I’m convicted by it. I’m on my knees seeking forgiveness. I’m asking for eyes to see. I’m asking for help to make selfless choices. I’m asking to be able to help people belong, whatever the cost.

“Because of the privilege and authority God has given me, I give each of you this warning: Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us. Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function, so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other.”

Rom 12:3-5 NLT