The church doesn’t understand neurodiversity.

Our understanding of these conditions as a nation has only begun to develop within the past fifty years. ADHD was only added to the DSM in 1968. The DSM didn’t introduce the full spectrum of Autism until 1997 (despite the condition being first mentioned in 1952.) Naturally then, the church’s understanding of neurodiversity has been not only deficient but often behind the times. The American systematization of faith overlooks the full beautiful diverse range of brains and mental processes represented in pews across our nation. Now we know that up to 20% of the population is neurodiverse. Is the church prepared to minister to this 20%? Research shows that they are not. In fact, the odds of children with autism or ADHD ceasing to attend religious services is around 2 times higher than other kids. When the church doesn’t understand the basics of neurodiverity, they cannot minister to the differing needs of those present in their congregations. As a result, those who do attend often feel shame for limitations they cannot control.

As mental health becomes slowly more recognized in the media, the church is slowly gaining an awareness of these challenges. That doesn’t mean that we always handle the topic correctly, though. People with depression are flippantly told, “the joy of the Lord is your strength” as if those mere words would reignite their will to live. People with diagnosed anxiety conditions are offhandedly told “be anxious for nothing” as if slapping a verse on the problem would make it disappear. And as I reflect on the stories I’ve heard from my friends and close circle, I see a theme of struggling people seeking authentic answers instead of shallow idioms and verses taken out of context.

We grew up in a church that exalted morality. The best thing you could do was know the difference between right and wrong and live in accordance with that moral code. And though that moral code was derived from biblical principles, rule lists can easily turn into legalism. Every time we create a list of rules based on the Bible, there’s a risk of adding rules on top of rules like the Pharisees did. It happens to the best of us – even those of us with the best of intentions. It happened to me.

Reject Morality-Driven Faith

The danger of a morality-driven faith is that it’s easy to become more works based than we realize and judge others by our own subjective standards. What is modest? How should I do my quiet time? How should you talk to God? How do you share your faith with others? What does it mean to pursue righteousness and avoid the appearance of evil? These are all questions that even the most pious Christians have answered differently throughout the years.

So what happens when those of us who wrestle with neurodivergence enter into a morality-driven Christian subculture? We feel like we have to fake it till we make it. And some of us who are higher functioning or appear more neurotypical from the outside might actually trick everyone into thinking we’re pretty good Christians. But that doesn’t take into account all of the shameful “I’m sorry’s” that were whispered under our breath to God because we knew He saw what happened behind the scenes.

I grew up attending church every Sunday. I went to Sunday school ready to raise my hand with all the right answers. I grew up desperate for the adults to view me as the perfect Christian church girl. I wanted to be the checklist Christian. The one who read her Bible every morning, spent an hour in prayer every day, served my neighbor, participated in ministry, and checked off every box. Even the way I had learned about the Proverbs 31 woman was all about her morning routine and productivity in her community. To be blunt, I couldn’t relate.

When it came down to spiritual disciplines, I struggled. I had friends that were militant in their Bible reading and verse memorization. They seemed so much more spiritual than me. At the time, I didn’t realize that many of my struggles were tied to my undiagnosed ADHD. But whatever label your neurodivergence falls under, we all have areas of our spiritual lives that we’ve felt like a failure. 

Reject One-Size-Fits-All Checklists

It wasn’t until the end of high school that I started realizing my view of what it meant to be close to God was more about a checklist than a relationship. Some of the most transformational prayers I’ve prayed were the five-minute prayers I’d whisper as I walked to and from classes or sat on a swing set during my lunch break. In those moments, I learned that time with God was more about intimacy and honesty than a list of requirements I needed to meet.

Growing up, I had a deepening relationship with Jesus, but it was not consistent. When I met my ADHD roommate in college, we often talked about the struggles we faced. Christian culture made us feel that if we didn’t read our Bible for an hour each day, we must not have a growing relationship with God. And yet, we knew this wasn’t true. We had a relationship with God, but just like everything else in our lives, it wasn’t consistent. 

Our late-night rants often included sentiments like, “People compare reading your Bible with eating breakfast assuming that people eat breakfast around the same time each day. But nothing in my life is consistent! Sometimes I eat breakfast, and sometimes I forget to eat till 2pm! If eating isn’t consistent, how do they expect my Bible reading to follow a strict schedule?”

One of our professors at Bible college was known and revered for his knowledge of Scripture and people fought to get into his Bible Intro class. He was militant about his Quiet Times. Fittingly, though, he had been in the military for a significant portion of his life. He woke up at the same time every day, ate breakfast at the same time each day, exercised at the same time each day, and read his Bible at the same time each day. If he didn’t have time, he’d skip breakfast. This type of spiritual discipline was lauded as honorable and something we should all aim to implement. 

Reject Militant Routines as the Only Way to be Close with God

What do you do when the role model you admire presents a lifestyle that you could never achieve? I looked at his version of closeness with God and felt like I was failing before I began. While spiritual discipline and self-control are characteristics worth growing in, I had to learn that they look different for everybody. Engaging with spiritual disciplines doesn’t have to be militant, and for many, it cannot be. Are there still challenges to overcome? Sure. Are there failures to confess? Of course. But our Savior doesn’t require our relationship with him to look like everyone else’s. He created you and he delights in your neurodivergent relationship with him.

One night, I sat in a garden courtyard feeling the summer breeze on my face and writing out a desperate prayer to God. “Jesus, I feel like I’m always failing you. I’m not consistent about anything in my life, so how could I be consistent in spending time with you? I try. I do. And when we hang out, it’s amazing. But if you require an hour-long quiet time at dawn every morning for us to be close, I don’t think I can do it.” I begged Him to show me a way forward since the patterns prescribed by so many Christian leaders and role models didn’t work. He simply answered, “Don’t you know I made you? Do you think I’m unaware of how your brain works, or the things you struggle with? Don’t try to overcome your ADHD…invite me into it.” 

Reject Internalized Shame

After this sweet moment with Jesus, I realized how much shame I had internalized over things I couldn’t control. I grew up with a Sunday school teacher wouldn’t eat breakfast until He had feasted on the Word. I’d been in Bible studies that taught Bible study methods that weren’t compatible with how my brain worked. Even my professor in college seemed like the epitome of what it meant to be a good Christian. But after growing up with these people as examples, no one ever told me that Jesus didn’t expect those same things from me.

It’s understandable why these kinds of Christians get exalted as examples. They seem to have it all together. They have perfected the formula. The Christians that have thriving quiet times are lauded. The Christians who are involved in the most visable ministries are praised. Those who have the most to show for their efforts seem like the most spiritual people. This isn’t intentional, but it’s still important to recognize that the examples we exalt establish the expectations we try to meet. Nothing about these militant and regimented Christians is inherently bad. Their faith is beautiful and valuable to God. But it’s not the only way. What happens when the pattern presented is one some of us can’t replicate?

Shame. We can’t replicate a certain behavior, so we internalize an internal message about our innate value. Instead of thinking, “I’m not good at that behavior, so maybe I should try something different.” Many of us think something like, “I’m not good at that behavior, so I must not be a good person. I’m not enough. I’m of lesser value than the person who does that behavior well.”

And as we saw in the Garden of Eden, shame causes us to hide. Some try to fake it till they make it and hope nobody notices their deficiencies. Some withdraw from community and disengage from relationships. And some set themselves on a path of eternally “trying harder” to earn their place in the church, which causes burnout and sometimes a rejection of grace.

But here’s an important life motto to adopt: Shame isn’t a fruit of the Spirit! Let go of the shame and accept grace. Jesus doesn’t hold all the “supposed to’s” above your head. In fact, Romans 8:1-2 says clearly, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death.” 

How to Move Forward

Once we unlearn all the value statements we’ve placed on ourselves and all the ways we’ve had a Christian version of imposter syndrome, we are freed up to look at our disorders objectively. These are just differences. Without being crippled by shame, we can feel empowered to build habits that help us grow instead of holding us back. These are the best strategies I’ve found along the journey:

Replace Condemnation with Invitation

I learned that my “squirrel moments” weren’t condemnations, but invitations. I used to stop myself every time I got distracted while praying and yell at myself like, “Dang it! You’re so distractible. You’re supposed to be praying and now you’ve wasted all this time thinking of something worthless. You’re such a bad Christian. God must be rolling his eyes at you!” 

Pretty harsh, right? Though I naturally have a harsh inner critic, growing up with a moralistic view of the world didn’t help.

We have to be careful that our Christian subcultures don’t cultivate an inner critic that rejects grace and perpetuates harsh self-condemnation.

That doesn’t reflect what God thinks of us, so why do we allow ourselves to think about ourselves that way?

When God reframed these moments as invitations to let him in, I learned how to embrace grace for myself and believe that God loved my quirks. Maybe when I started praying about my day, I got distracted thinking about something cringy I did three years ago. Instead of trying to “snap myself out of it”, I just said, “Oh, hey God, got distracted there. But since this is where my mind wandered to….I feel kind of embarrassed about this situation. I know it was three years ago, but there’s still some lingering shame. What do you think about that?”

Trust Yourself to Ride the Waves

As I allowed God to teach me what it meant to grow in my faith, he showed me how to work with how my brain worked instead of against it. My life now is not void of routines or structures, but they are pretty loose. The routines of my days ebb and flow hour by hour. It’s similar to how waves trickle in on calm days and crash along the rocks on windy days. The waves still come in and out, and the tide still rises and falls, but the movement of each water molecule is different every time. It’s a rhythm, but it’s not militant. 

In the same way, my brain has rhythms, but they go against the logic of an hour-by-hour schedule. It’s taken time to learn that I can trust myself. Instead of always fighting against my brain, I’m learning to ride the waves and trust that God is in them with me. I don’t always get to a destination on a strict schedule, but if I’m listening to the Holy Spirit’s voice and sensitive to his gentle little whispers of, “Come this way!”, then I eventually get where he wants me to go. And sometimes, as cliche, as it is, the closeness with God grows more through journeying than arriving.

I’ve had to learn to enjoy the process of being “in-process.”

This works for me because my neurodivergence revolves around distraction, impulsivity, forgetfulness, and passion pursuits. It might look different for you to ride the wave of your OCD or Bipolar disorder. For OCD, you might learn to implement more regimented prayers or recite scripture as you ride the ebb and flow of your compulsivity. If things have to be a certain way, maybe find a way to tap into a relationship with the God who created order. If you wrestle with Tourette’s, it might help you to draw near to a God who has a sense of humor. Maybe the uber-pretentious Christians don’t understand, but can you find a way to laugh along with God when an outburst is just plain outrageous? If depression is your struggle, then don’t forget that God dove into the depths with Job and David. He can handle the darkness. No matter which flavor of neurodivergence you face, riding the wave just means giving yourself grace and not taking life too seriously. You won’t be perfect, and you definitely won’t be neurotypical. So why not take each day as it comes, and accept it instead of running from it?

Surfers know how to ride waves well. When people resist the ebb and flow of the ocean, the waves crash against them and take them under. Surfers don’t do that. They get in tune with the motion of the water. Sometimes they sit still on their boards, and other times they ride the crest of a huge wave. If you’re neurodivergent, your waves won’t disappear. Sometimes meds help them not be tsunamis. But learning to ride the waves will help you enjoy your life in full color. Even if you still have bad days, those days won’t have the power to define you or pull you into a new shame cycle.

Find Your God Spots

I’ve found that my relationship with God functions more through adventures than routines. It’s just like any other relationship. I don’t spend 60 strict minutes with my best friends every day, but I do go on amazing adventures with them. Sometimes we schedule times to meet up and talk over coffee, and sometimes we sporadically go get McDonald’s at midnight on a whim. When I embrace grace for myself, it usually allows me to embrace the adventures God has for me. Sometimes I do schedule time to sit down and talk and read my Bible, but sometimes I go to the park with Him or go to the art museum with Him. Embrace your difference. That’s what makes for the best adventures, anyways!

I’ve learned that my ADHD brain needs designated spaces to do specific things. I go to the gym to exercise, I go to a coffee shop to write, so I go to my “date spots” to chill with Jesus. I have specific parks, specific trails, specific cathedrals, and specific sacred spaces that I like to go to when my heart needs to sit with Him. 

Cut Corners

Learning your own specific coping mechanisms that work with your brain can give you superpowers you didn’t know you had. When I don’t have time to go on a big adventure or meet with God in one of my spots, I have to find ways to make Bible Study or Prayer feel less daunting. For those with ADHD, finding a way to do an activity in the least amount of steps helps tremendously. The emphasis that many Christians have on the quality of your quiet time can sometimes paralyze me. If I feel like a quiet time won’t be worth it unless it’s 60 minutes long, then I’m not even gonna try.

It sounds counterintuitive, but CUT CORNERS! If you’ve got dyslexia and reading your Bible feels too big, turn on an audio Bible while you wash dishes. If your social anxiety is paralyzing you from texting back your small group leader, maybe you can come up with a system where you reply with just an emoji to let her know you’re doing okay or that you’ll reply when you’ve got margin for it. For my ADHD, I found that the concept of finding my Bible and picking a passage to read felt overwhelming. So my shortcut is to leave my Bible open right beside my bed or desk. That way, it’s already open to a preselected passage and it takes almost no effort to pick it up and read a few verses. In the same way, thinking of things to pray about feels daunting. So sometimes I will use the Common Book of Prayer or other written prayers that literally tell me word for word what to pray. Though these methods might be viewed as producing a lesser quality of quiet time, I’ve found that they help me have more consistency. And most of the time, the part that feels most overwhelming is *starting*, but once I’ve done that it’s much easier to keep going and make it my own based on what I need that day.

Compile a Toolbox

Modern-day schedules and structures don’t work for my brain. They feel rigid and stiff and unattainable, and somehow at the same time incredibly boring. 5-minute devotional books make me want to run. It’s not that they’re bad…they just aren’t compatible with my brain. Because of this, some of the old liturgies or pilgrimage spots make more sense to me now. Just like the 5-minute devo, they’re not for everyone. But for me, the added depth and structure I’ve found in them seem to resonate with my heart more. 

I struggle to meet with God in an armchair. I know a lot of people can do it, but that usually just makes my mind wander endlessly. I struggle to read a chapter from the same book of the Bible every day. I struggle to think of things to pray about without getting bored. But that’s okay. That doesn’t make me a bad Christian. It just means I need different tools. 

A 5 Minute Devo is a tool. A Bible Study Book is a tool. A worship playlist is a tool. And these are the tools we are most familiar with in the 21st-century Evangelical church. But if those tools don’t work for you, find other tools. Christians throughout history have used hundreds of different tools to meet with God. And for some people, those old liturgies work much better than modern methods. For others, it just requires creativity to engage with God in unconventional ways. If you need ideas of things to try, you can search up any of these phrases on Google to learn more:

• Lectio Divina
• The Common Book of Prayer
• Valley of Vision
• Walking a Labyrinth
• Breath Prayers
• Holy Yoga
• Read Scripture Aloud
• Jewish Feasts & Festivals
• Recite Creeds
• Pray a Psalm
• Look at Religious Art
• Ignatian Prayer
• Following the Church Calendar
• Protestant Prayer Beads
• Stations of the Cross
• Religious Art Therapy Exercises
• Christian Journaling Prompts
• Prayer Cards
• War Room Prayer
• Bible Journaling
• Dance Worship
• Hymn Books
• Pray a Psalm
• Orthodox Iconography
• Ancient Christian Chants
• Hand Lettering Scripture
• The Lord’s Prayer
• The Apostles Creed
• Church History Books
• Missionary Stories
• Cathedral Near Me
• Christian TV/Movies (like The Chosen)
• Silent Retreat
• Christian Pilgrimage Trips
• Streetlights Audio Bible
• Bible Oral Interpretation/Recitation
• Worship Methods from Around the World
• International Church Near Me

 

Maybe We’re Scared to Admit We’ve All Been There

Near the end of Bible college, I had a close friend of mine and a skilled theologian confess that he hated sermons. Because sermons are such a norm, this was something he felt he couldn’t express without being seen as less devout. He found a church that puts more emphasis on reading several passages of Scripture during the service and has a much shorter sermon. He shared that he learned more from short Scripture readings than long sermons. The reality is that our 60-minute sermons that require people to sit still, follow a train of logic, take notes, and listen intently for a long period of time are not a helpful mode of communication for everyone.

Another friend of mine has dyslexia. Growing up as a child with dyslexia in Sunday school is a nightmare. Do you know how many times kids are asked to read Bible verses aloud? How might that feel to someone who struggles to process written words correctly? Instead of enjoying learning more about God, every Sunday school hour would be filled with dread that the teacher might ask you to read, as your peers giggle while you mispronounce obscure Bible words. Furthermore, Christians put such an emphasis on reading the Bible for spiritual growth. What if you don’t like reading? What if that’s not how you learn? Does that mean you can’t grow closer to God?

I have another friend with high-functioning autism. He’s always hated the loud music and social expectations in a church service. Socializing in large groups makes him very anxious and he’d rather stay home. He’s expressed to me that he’s always felt like he didn’t fit in church. Sunday school classes and small groups are his version of a nightmare. Communities with loud noises, neurotypical teaching styles, expectations to sit still, and relational pressures to fit into social norms are a special kind of hell to him. But because those formats of worship and teaching are held as the standard, the church risks sending the message that people who don’t enjoy these cookie-cutter formats are bad Christians. It’s possible that people who don’t fit those formats won’t have enough reasons to keep showing up on Sunday.

Why does it feel like these sentiments are so risky to share? People tell me these things as if they are forbidden secrets. These are the kinds of thoughts that people think they can never say out loud without the church judging them. I’ve been there. I’ve made promises to myself to pretend I didn’t feel a certain way or struggle with a certain behavior. Somehow it feels less shameful to keep it secret so people can’t judge. But that’s one of our enemy’s favorite strategies. If he can make us feel like we’re the only one who’s ever felt this way, we will keep hiding and never help each other. What if sharing how you feel can help your church find ways to support neurodivergent people and make space for their differences? I’ve heard of neurodivergent-friendly churches that have noise-reducing headphones, fidgets, adult coloring books, or even different sanctuary setups with tables or couches. Wouldn’t it be amazing if your church became a hub where people wrestling with ADHD, Depression, Anxiety, Autism, PTSD, Bipolar Disorder, Dyslexia, Tourette’s, Down Syndrome, and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder felt safe, loved, and at home?

Being a Neurodiverse Christian is a journey for sure. It’s messy. And it forces us to ask questions about God, ourselves, and our worth that others might not be asking. It will take time to learn about yourself and learn what works best for your brain. Maybe you have to use different tools to connect with God than your neurotypical neighbor. Rejecting shame and embracing grace will help you enjoy the freedom that God gives us to connect with Him in thousands of different ways. Being honest about your struggles can allow other people into your world, where they might experience God in new ways. When we’re vulnerable with each other, we can also help each other grow and be challenged without internalizing the unnecessary shame and judgment. And most of all, it’s important to remember that you are loved.

A friend of mine once looked at his quirky little wiener dog and said, “There’s nothing more he could do to glorify God. Just by running around and playing with his puppy toys, he is worshipping God.” I love that mindset. What if we thought of ourselves that way? There’s always going to be sin to blur the picture, but your worth and value are already determined. Just by existing, you are fully loved and valuable and your worship is seen as beautiful to God. You don’t have to do one more thing to be worthy, because you don’t have to earn God’s love. So your neurodivergent self with all of your quirks and weaknesses and struggles can relax and breathe easy and stop trying to be like everyone else to earn God’s favor. You are exactly where you are and that’s exactly where God meets you. Isn’t that good news?

 

You don’t have to do one more thing to be worthy, because you don’t have to earn God’s love.