Discipleship programs typically focus on personal conversion, mastery of scripture, and rational assent. These hallmarks have given rise to a rich tradition. But the call of Matthew disrupts those expectations. Matthew responds to Jesus' invitation without any mention of repentance, doctrinal understanding, or theological affirmation. He simply arises and follows.

What does this mean for my son Rafael, who is 30 years old and has Down Syndrome? Rafi cannot grasp the creeds or articulate abstract doctrines. He can read, understand basic instructions, and he has good receptive language, but he struggles with expression. Any theological complexity is beyond him. Can he be a disciple?

This blog explores the concept of hypo-cognitive discipleship—a form of following Jesus not rooted in theological comprehension but in trust-filled, relational response and community. In doing so, I want to challenge assumptions about discipleship that are born out of able-bodied perspectives. Discipleship, rightly understood, welcomes the cognitively limited, the spiritually bewildered, and the vulnerable, not as exceptions, but as exemplars of grace.

What Occurs in the Call of Matthew? Christ Extends a Call

"Follow me" is a call rooted in Christ's initiative. The priority and the urgency are in the workings of grace in Christ's invitation to Himself and His Body. This is the living source of discipleship.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer's (1906-1945) reflections on the call of Matthew help to support this idea. He notices how the embodied act of obedience is what marks the tax collector's transformation into a disciple, rather than a confession or verbal assent. Matthew's obedience is because it is Jesus Christ himself who called. He writes, "not a word of praise is given to the disciple for his decision for Christ. We are not expected to contemplate the disciple, but only him who calls, and his absolute authority."[1] Jesus simply says, "follow me, run along behind me! That is all."[2] This, as Bonhoeffer notes, is a "summons to an exclusive attachment to his person [that is, Christ]."[3]

I believe that Rafi, as well, has been summoned to an exclusive attachment to Christ. This marks him as a disciple. Christ continues to work within Rafi in ways that are beyond anyone's comprehension. When Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick," he was not demeaning sickness or what the world deems as weakness; he was locating his mission. Rafi knows the Love of God. Not in an abstract, propositional sense—but through bodily experience, relational trust, and community care. As the apostle wrote, "anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love" (1 John 4:8).

Rafi also encounters the person of Christ in community in the body of Christ. This is also where Rafi continues to be discipled. This looks like hospitality and care. In the everyday care of Rafi, he is discipled. I like to think of my house as Rafi's temple, our kitchen as the Altar, and our meals together as a sacrifice. His care is worship, and Rafi is involved in all of it.

This Hospitality is central to discipleship. In the Hebrew tradition, this is hachnasat orchim—the welcoming of the "stranger". This is not a simple act of social courtesy, but radical care for the one who comes from "elsewhere." Leviticus commands that, "the foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt" (Lev. 19:34). This is a biblical ethic to embrace the different, the unfamiliar, and the disabled. It is not simply about etiquette; it is about solidarity. Discipleship cannot be treated as solely a cognitive task: learning doctrine, making decisions, or following rules. This is not how Rafi is discipled, nor what the call of Matthew represents.

Being Discipled by Rafi

Christ is encountered in Rafi through the abled part of the church. In Jesus, God enters the vulnerability of the human condition. The Church, as his body, should reflect that same vulnerability. To be called by Christ is to be summoned not in strength but in weakness; "God is found in the weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us."[4] Where those with intellectual disabilities may be seen as "lacking" or "weak" in regards to power or intellect, they now become a site of divine encounter and revelation. In Rafi's Walk of Faith, the church is reminded to embrace vulnerability, and that God often uses the "weak things of the world to shame the strong" (1 Cor. 1:27).

Rafi's faith provokes illusions of spiritual self-sufficiency, and it moves us to acknowledge that everyone's discipleship journey is not built on not on intellectual strength, but on Christ's grace. While learning the creeds may be a gift for some, discipleship is not reducible to what we "know".

If we think of discipleship as an individual cognitive achievement, we exclude those who cannot "keep up." But if we understand it as a relational, embodied belonging, we all become learners again. This radical vision also dismantles the individualism of modern faith. Here we are reminded to dispossess ourselves, to live together in difference, and to stand with and for the vulnerable.

Inclusion & Belonging in the Body of Christ

Churches do often aim to "include" congregants who have disabilities, but inclusion without true belonging can be patronizing. In 30 years, I have seen Rafi welcomed in churches, but always on the congregation's terms. He's been included, but rarely has he belonged. He is not seen or treated as a fellow disciple or a fellow part of the body of Christ to be discipled by. As Bonhoeffer notes, "The exclusion of the weak and insignificant, the seemingly useless people from everyday life and community may mean the exclusion of Christ."[5]

The call of Matthew must reframe how we perceive discipleship. Does discipleship require advancing in doctrinal beliefs and cognitive grasp? Matthew suggests otherwise. Rafi's path of discipleship suggests otherwise. Most importantly, the call and authority of Christ that produces simple embodied obedience suggest otherwise. Bonhoeffer says, "Where Jesus calls, he bridges the widest gulf." Rafi has been called – and therefore, Rafi is a disciple — and he is therefore also an exemplar of grace. So, in a world obsessed with performance and perfection, let us remember that discipleship begins when Jesus Christ says, "Follow me" – and we rise, not by strength or wisdom, but by grace.

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These ideas are part of a course curriculum in Disability and Theology. I have taught at Wycliffe College, Tyndale University, and Ambrose University. This fall, I will be teaching a hybrid Certificate Course at the Tyndale Spiritual Formation Centre in Toronto. The course will be held once a month over seven months (October 28, 2025, to April 11, 2026). More information is available at www2.tyndale.ca/tsfc/certificates.

Please also check out my book, Human Difference: Reflections on a Life in Proximity to Disability (2024), where you can find more of these meditations. The book can be accessed on Amazon, the Toronto Public Library and the Tyndale University Library.