Faith & Disability

The wind must have blown last night. Or maybe the rumble of thunder I heard as I lay in bed materialised into rain – though there’s no sign of much wetness around this morning. Whatever the reason, most of the apple blossom is no longer on the tree. Now I wait to see if the bases of the flowers start to swell into pubescent apples. The flowers have not been on very long so they’ve not had much chance to be pollinated & the fruit to set. Fingers crossed.

The other day, on Channel 4 News, I heard an item about the problems disabled people have with the church, of whatever denomination. Apparently few disabled people have not had the experience of some stranger coming up to them & insisting upon trying to heal them through prayer. Then, if they fail to be able to get up & walk, or see again etc. they are rebuked for not having enough faith.

I have to confess I couldn’t help thinking of my own experiences.

We used to have some dear friends, now dead. All was well until my knees continued to be a problem, despite a series of operations. Unfortunately they were both Christian Scientists. They eventually sent me a copy of Mary Baker Eddy’s “Science & Health” to read. I appreciate they thought they had an answer to my health problems. However, I do not have the sort of faith that can pretend my physical problems do not exist & pretend is what I would have to do. As my health did not improve & I became a wheelchair user, our friendship cooled.

I’ve been to Church of England services where priests have come up to me after the service to suggest I should come to their services of healing & all will be well once more. I didn’t go.

The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion, my disability was a “gift” from God - an odd one admittedly - which I should not deny. It has taught me much about how to receive & in the process others have learnt how to give. I am articulate & as such I have tried to give voice to other disabled people. I look normal, with the result people get to know me before they realise there is anything wrong & so listen to my points. I have fought for disability rights & benefits, not just for myself but for other less articulate disabled people.

I suppose I also question what is meant by the term “healing”. I have come to terms with my disability. I’ve found a way of life which suits me. I’ll not deny I’d love to get up & run around, to re-enter the world of work (though I suspect at over 60 the toll of age would probably restrain me anyhow), to be out of pain (who wouldn’t?), but that isn’t something that absorbs all my thoughts. I’ve moved on. I’m at peace in my soul & surely that counts as healing as far as the church is concerned. Certainly I feel the problems resulting from my mental ill health, my depression, are far more distressing than my physical problems which they so often obsess about.