I was born missing my left arm below the elbow. This technically means I have a disability, though I find it hard to identify with the label. Missing my arm is simply what I know, part of my basic everyday existence. I know the limits of my ability, but I see no need to define myself by them. Similarly, I don't mind being asked about my arm, just as I don't mind being asked about a new haircut–I feel no need to be ashamed or apologetic for my physical form.

So it is always a bit jarring when I encounter people who think I should feel ashamed about my appearance. These people, when meeting me, look at my arm and immediately say, "I'm sorry." From their point of view my life must be so miserable that I deserve their pity.

I have church friends (and yes, family members) who let me know that they have been praying for years that God would grow my arm. According to their view, if I only had the faith of a mustard seed then some sort of miraculous arm sprouting would occur. I've learned to take such responses in stride, knowing that their rejection of who I am says more about their insecurities than it says about me. But I struggle more when I hear such things from church leaders.

For instance, Rowan Williams, writing about the eucharistic interdependence of the corporate body of Christ, says that abled people should not respond in fright to handicapped people but instead realize that abled people need the healing of the handicapped for their own good–just as the handicapped need abled people's wholeness for theirs. He calls this the outworking of the sacramental vision.

I could barely read any farther, as his words forced me to realize that he views people with disabilities as "other." Instead of being allowed to be ourselves, we are reduced to a category of people who must be healed before we can be accepted as equals.

Few people would deny that it is hurtful to tell a woman she must become a man or to tell a black man he must become white in order to be a full member of the body and experience wholeness. But some people still assume that people who are differently-abled need to become like someone else in order to be whole.

Our faith celebrates the idea of the word becoming flesh and dwelling among us, yet we reject physical bodies that seem different. It is one thing to say that our condition as human beings is broken. It's another thing to assert that some people are more broken simply because they have only one arm, or use a wheelchair, or have different mental processes. We are all the broken body of Christ struggling to be in communion with God and each other.

God created me to be tall, to be a woman, to have brown hair and a left arm that ends at the elbow. I don't need to be healed of any of that in order to be a member of the body of Christ.

Sad thing, even as a disabled person the only reaction I ever heard about ADA was negative. People complained about the hassle of making space for the disabled. They said it was unfair that the disabled were being given special privileges (yes, seriously people were stupid enough to say something like that). And, most of all, they complained about the cost. And being in the church world, where I heard that complaint most often was from churches. Now I understand that churches often don’t have a lot of money, and to add another few hundred thousand onto a renovation budget to be ADA compliant is difficult. A church I was at once attempted to renovate their sanctuary to fit in more seating, but in the end we lost seats because of the ramp we had to put in to make the stage accessible. It was hard and forced the church to rethink where the money was to be spent, which of course led to some choice words being said about the “liberal nonsense of the ADA.” But in truth, I had to wonder why the church wasn’t the one out there doing whatever they could to include the disabled – even without being forced to by law. Jesus went out of his way to be with the disabled in his society, the church could at least do the same.

Where this gets confusing for me is the intersection of disabled people and worship. Straight-up, there is a lot that churches do in worship (especially in more experimental experiential worship) that is just plain inaccessible to the disabled. There have been a number of times at my current church where I have just sat quietly in my seat because whatever worship activity we were doing would have been impossible to do with one hand. And I always cringe a bit when we do active things, or create art, or meditate on a film and exclude the wheelchair users and the blind in our congregation. I similarly don’t wish to exclude the say, kinesthetic or visual learners in the church, but it sometimes feels as if there is no awareness of how a disabled person could enter into the worship experience. As a church have we forgotten how to go to the lengths of cutting open a roof and lowering our disabled friend in through the ceiling just so they could meet Jesus?

So as we celebrate these twenty years, I think it should be as a reminder of how far we still have to go in our culture and in the church. There are still churches that ban the disabled from serving as priests. And there are churches that see disability as a result of sin or of a lack of faith in the Lord to heal. I’ve been told to just have enough faith and the Lord will grow my arm, or to at least look forward to having two perfect arms in heaven. Disabled people need to be included in worship, but first, we need to be accepted as who we are. Not as people to be pitied or to be cured, but as children of God created the way God wanted us to be. We want to be included in community not because a law forces us to be put up with, but because the church desperately wants to love us and desires to hear our voice.

These handicapped dancers make it on the TV broadcast unfortunately because they make for good dramatic television. They get to tell their story and the judges get to do a teary-eyed moment before they tell them some version of "you really wouldn't work for our program, but we are so proud of your courage." Basically, "you look too weird and awkward to appeal to a wide audience but we will boost our ratings by using you to elicit pity and then move on". It is never an affirmation of the person embracing their handicap and working with it, but always a pat on the back for choosing to live life out among regular people even though they are handicapped. Like with the one armed girl this week. Granted she had just lost her hand in the past couple of years, and so had to relearn how to do life, but even as the show commended her courage it couldn't get past her handicap. As I watched her dance, I kept wondering why she wasn't really using her half arm. It stayed close to her side and it seemed like she was hiding it. The judges then praised her for hiding her handicapped while she danced so that the viewers didn't have to deal with seeing an imbalanced form.

I've been there. I recall during try-out week for drill team in high school, I was reminded over and over again that my arm might prevent me from doing the dances well – I would never look perfect alongside the rest of the team. I got the message and dropped out of try-outs. I stayed in the dance classes though as a teachers assistant and I took over teaching the special education students that had been mainstreamed into the class. The teacher wanted nothing to do with them or me and shuffled us off to the side. And I've mentioned here before about visiting children's homes in Latvia where children born missing limbs are sent to live where the public won't have to be confronted with them. I was appalled then, but I wonder how different that is from TV shows that parade us out there to show us pity but then still won't accept us in their world as we are. (or support universal health care so that we handicapped folks won't continue to be denied coverage for being born like this, but that's a whole different issue…)

I don't normally define myself as handicapped (or differently-abled or whatever the term is these days), but I also don't try to hide that part of me. Missing my arm is just a part of who I am. I don't want to be told that some day I'll be perfect and have two hands in heaven just as much as I don't want to be seen as a lesser thing to be pitied. Sure, I might need a little extra help here or there (there's good reason why Mike does most of the diaper changing around here, one hand + poopy diaper + squirmy baby = disaster), and I've gotten used to the stares that constantly remind me that I'm not normal, but I'm not a circus freak here for your entertainment – and that includes those emotional tear-jerking TV moments. So I applaud those on the show who fight to get that which is different accepted as normal. The same-sex ballroom dancers are beginning to gain respect, perhaps one day handicapped dancers will be accepted as more than just subjects of our pity.

Reading the comments there was a bit disturbing. I somewhat expected the comments that told Eugene he was overreacting, but was unprepared for the number of people defending mocking others. Some of them weren't even saying that the gesture isn't offensive, but that they know it's offensive and mocking and that's okay. Or as one guy commented, "I’m not racist, but I do enjoy my ethnic jokes."

What sort of messed up world do we live in where our entertainment serves as justification for hurting others? Okay, I'm not naive, and I realize that there is nothing new about it, but I just can't wrap my mind around Christians defending the practice of making fun of people, much less how God created people to be. I don't care if it happens all the time, just think about that concept. Instead of loving our neighbor (and enemy), we are destroying them for a moment's entertainment. We think it's funny to tear down the image of God in others, and then claim it is our right to continue to do so. Does anyone else see the utter absurdity there?

Growing up missing a limb had me at the butt of many jokes. Kids in elementary school found it amusing to tell "stump" jokes to my face. They were almost as popular as the Helen Keller jokes mocking deaf people. And I'm sure we are all familiar with current phrases and jokes that mock women and gays. It is a strange thing to have someone make fun of you, and then insist that their right to be entertained by hurting you is more important than your feelings and identity. And that their right is more important than the command to love our neighbor. I just don't get it.  As a child I was too unsure of myself to stand up to those kids and tell them that their jokes weren't funny.  Sad thing is – none of the other kids, or teachers, or parents sent that message either.  So the jokes continued.

I think it's sad that when guys like Eugene say "please stop making fun of my family," people (Christians!) get mad at him.  There seems to be a huge failure of love happening here.  So what do you think needs to be done to change things? Are churches working to change this or are they part of the problem? How can the body of Christ learn to love so much that we can't fathom mocking the other, much less defending out right to do so?

To back up a bit, in our culture perfection (or at least the absence of any visible physical flaws) is worshipped. We all hear about the millions of dollars spent on cosmetic procedures and the obsession with having a sexy body. But beyond that such obvious flaws like missing a limb are becoming less and less tolerated. This of course ties in with the whole abortion issue. Parents are now bringing "wrongful life" lawsuits against doctors if the doctor doesn't inform them with enough time to abort that their child will have a defect. Apparently giving a child with a defect a chance at life is just wrong in their eyes. I've had people argue to my face that abortion is needed in the case of birth defects. To one such person, I asked, "so are you saying I should have been aborted because I am missing my arm?" Her reply – "I wasn't talking about you, you're smart." But the assumption by many in our society is that unless you are perfect you don't even deserve to be born. I find it easy to disagree and fight that assumption in culture, but then I find it in scriptures and the church as well.

I had always heard the language of "pure and holy sacrifice" referring to the lambs led to slaughter. Then one day I read the stipulations for Priests making offerings to God -

Leviticus 21:16-23 "The LORD said to Moses, "Say to Aaron: 'For the generations to come none of your descendants who has a defect may come near to offer the food of his God. No man who has any defect may come near: no man who is blind or lame, disfigured or deformed; no man with a crippled foot or hand, or who is hunchbacked or dwarfed, or who has any eye defect, or who has festering or running sores or damaged testicles. No descendant of Aaron the priest who has any defect is to come near to present the offerings made to the LORD by fire. He has a defect; he must not come near to offer the food of his God. He may eat the most holy food of his God, as well as the holy food; yet because of his defect, he must not go near the curtain or approach the altar, and so desecrate my sanctuary. I am the LORD, who makes them holy."

Having been taught my whole life that "God made me this way" reading those words was hard. Missing a limb, being the way God intended a person to be, disqualified them from serving God. We weren't perfect enough to for God. (granted women were automatically disqualified too, but that's a different issue). Not only were we not perfect enough, we desecrate the sanctuary by our presence. Sure it could be assumed that after Christ came as a "perfect sacrifice for all" that such restrictions are lifted, but what really got to me was discovering that there are branches in the church that still promote these stipulations. In the Orthodox church you cannot be in church leadership if you have a physical defect (well except for the eye thing, they waive that one for people with glasses).

I honestly don't get it. How does not being physically perfect disqualify a person from serving God? How does this make me any less holy than others? Sure there were tons of purity laws in the OT, all of which could be forgiven. But this was impurity for life. Reading passages like this and hearing about the policies of the Orthodox Church seem to me to fit more within the mindset of the Communists who sequester away the deformed children in Latvia or the parents who sue doctors for the "wrongful life" of their defected child. But while my worldview allowed me to accept such opinions from Communists and abortionists, I can't seem to wrap my mind around how it fits in the Bible and the church. And so far I have yet to hear any interpretation of this passage that really makes sense. At best it just gets lumped in with all those other "Ancient Near-Eastern worldview" passages (like bashing babies' heads against rocks) that basically just don't make sense either.

So where does that leave me? I want my theology of disability to be that God made me to be me and uses me as I am. But the Bible seems to contradict that and tells me that I am unwanted and incapable of serving God because of my arm. I have chosen to just go ahead and serve God (as a disabled woman that obviously isn't in the Orthodox church), but some days that choice can be hard to align with scripture.

Tags: Disability, Handicap

First, I have been told countless times that if I just prayed with enough faith for God to regrow my arm he would (the whole mustardseed and mountains thing). I always found this response odd because I grew up in Dispensational Cessasionist churches. We didn't talk about miraculous healings, but apparently my arm was an exception. There were the times I believed that message and prayed for my arm to grow (and of course assumed my faith was too weak when it didn't). There was never any mention of God's will or basic laws of nature stuff, just the assumption that of course God would reward me with a new arm if my faith was strong enough. As I hear stories now of people trying to pray other physically manifest aspects of personality out of people (ADHD, Gayness..) I realize how utterly offensive such messages are. Just because we don't fit into a cultural definition of normal, we are told that we must pray that God will change us to fit the dominant mold. Who we are is apparently less important than appearing to be just like everyone else.

The other way I was told that God would fix me would be in giving me a perfect resurrected body. It was apparently supposed to be a comfort that when I go to heaven after I die I will have two hands. But honestly, will I? If my life and my personality have been shaped by having one arm, why would my resurrected body necessarily be different? I don't pretend to understand any of that stuff or assume how much of an echo of ourselves we will be in eternity, but the assumption that I would have two hands in heaven was always strange to me.

I guess my perceptions of God have changed over time. Do I still think that God "made me this way"? Maybe, I honestly don't know. I don't believe God micromanages everything, or does stuff like this to punish or build faith. But in creating me to me be, I can say God made me this way. I do believe in the possibility of miracles, but don't see them as rewards for faith or as really all that necessary. And I don't believe in wishing for a miracle to make a person appear more mainstream. And I've learned that living incarnationally in the world now, whatever our personal lot, is much more important than pining after what Heaven may be like. I want to be who I am not in spite of or in reaction to my arm. It is part of who I am, but doesn't completely define me.

Tags: Disability, Handicap

In case the title of the blog didn't clue you in, I only have one hand. I was born missing my left arm below the elbow. It is not genetic or drug related, but to this day doctors aren't sure what other strange environmental toxins causes limbs to stop growing in the womb. But I have never known any different and learned how to do most everything with just one hand. Some things (like hammering in a nail) continue to elude me, but I've managed to figure out my own systems for most things. Missing an arm is a strange disability. I mean I am missing an entire limb, but am not really considered handicapped by many. I'm not handicapped enough to get a "Handicapped Parking Permit" and I've come to realize that making buildings handicapped accessible refers only to making buildings wheelchair accessible. I continue to struggle with many doors, most sinks, and all child safety systems (which I think require 3 hands for anyone to manage). Granted, I know I don't face anywhere near the day to day challenges as many other disabled people. But it has nevertheless been interesting to live life as a disabled person who isn't really permitted to call herself disabled.

I was never upset about missing an arm. I was never angry with God or any of those expected sorts of responses. I of course was called all sorts of names in elementary school. And I never understood why people thought it was funny to tell "stump" jokes around me. But missing am arm is part of who I am so it just had to deal with it.

Throughout my life I have worn various prosthetic arms and have hated them all. I had a hook as a toddler – that didn't last long. I remember being told that when I was six I could get a new arm and waiting with anticipation for that day. I ended up being extremely disappointed with the contraption I ended up with that had straps that wrapped all around my body. I had been expecting an arm like Luke Skywalker's. That was my first introduction to the wide gap between real science and science-fiction. Then in Jr. High I was fitted for two arms. One was a purely cosmetic arm that was modeled after my other arm. I could paint the nails and everything. If I wore long sleeves and people didn't look too hard, it looked somewhat normal. The other arm was a myoelectric one that weighed a ton and looked hideous. By flexing certain muscles by the electrodes I could open and close the hand. It was fun for trying to pinch my brothers with an iron grip, but the huge battery pack sticking out of the arm was just too weird. I wore those for about 4 years and then gave up on prosthetic limbs altogether. And in case you were wondering how I managed to have 4 prosthetic arms in my life when those things usually run at least $20,000 apiece, I somehow was admitted to the Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas which provides free services like that for children. But as nice as that was, the arms were just not useful to me. They were cumbersome and awkward with no real fine movements or sense of feel. Technology in arms has not developed much in the last 30 years since most research has gone into the much more necessary prosthetic legs. After abandoning my prosthetics (I still have one btw) I said I would never get another one until a real Luke Skywalker hand had been developed (which I saw a few years ago that there is a huge reward being offered anyone who can develop something like that, but our science is nowhere near that advanced yet). Plus as an adult I would never have the funds to cover a "cosmetic procedure" like getting a real arm.

What I find most interesting are the reactions I get from people. Talking about a person's handicap is seriously taboo in our culture. Most adults avoid the topic and get embarrassed when their children point and stare. And it is the children who do ask, children and the poor. Children I understand. They have not yet been conditioned to pretend to ignore the realities of others, and as they ask "what happened to your hand?" there is always the unspoken "and will it happen to mine?". Parents usually hush their children up and apologize to me for their audacity. But what really surprised me were the reactions I receive from the urban poor. There have been times when I have passed panhandlers asking for money, but once they see my arm they start apologizing for asking me for money. They ask me if I am okay and if I need anything. Similarly in cities with toilet fees, I've had bathroom attendants wave me through without charge because of my arm. The reaction I get is that of pity. It is an odd thing indeed to be treated by panhandlers on the street as pitiable and more in need of help than they are. It is something I have yet to figure out.

I think the most interesting and moving reaction I have had to my arm occurred in Latvia. I went on a missions trip to Latvia and Russia when I was in high school. At one point we visited a Hospital/Orphanage, although it was neither of those things in a traditional sense. It was a place where children born missing limbs or with other defects (often Chernobyl babies) were taken to be removed from society. This children were amazed that I as a "deformed" person was allowed to function as a normal member of society. It broke my heart that all of these kids were not allowed to offend the general public (or be a reminder of a government accident) by allowing people to see them. I have no clue if such homes still exist over there (I was there just a year after the fall of communism), perhaps in a cash strapped system there are no funds for hiding away the undesirable.

So I don't mind talking about my arm. It is more embarrassing and awkward to have other people be embarrassed by it than for people to just ask about it. But if there is one reaction that seriously annoys me, it would be the one I get most often. It's when people ask me if I am right or left handed. Perhaps people think this is a "safe" way to talk about my arm, but it drives me nuts. I don't freaking have a left arm how can I be left handed! But apparently asking that question seems like the most natural thing ever to tons of people. But it is the reactions I get within the church that confuse me the most and I will address those over the next few days.

Tags: Disability, Handicap