I grew up attending the one and only Greek Gospel Church in Toronto, where I began to understand disability and belonging in the church. It felt like home, and I always knew I was welcome. We were a small congregation and, over the years, we rented space from larger congregations for our services. To reach our worship space, I always had to climb stairs, which I could manage with help. Still, I wished for better accessibility so I could attend independently and participate fully.

As a young adult, I started attending a fully accessible church, which has been my home church since my early 20s. However, I’ve never forgotten the specific challenges of attending a church that wasn’t wheelchair accessible. I still love the church where I grew up, as it’s tied to my childhood, teenage years, and the roots of my Christian faith. Many friends from that time remain close to me.

That church experience started me thinking about disability and belonging in the church, and what true belonging in the body of Christ looks like. As Christians, we’re called to be the hands and feet of Jesus, blessing the world through our actions. But what does it mean to be an integral part of the Church when attending worship means facing barriers? While I’ve never felt unwelcome as a disabled person, many disabled individuals have faced barriers that highlight the need for addressing disability and belonging in the church. Some of this exclusion stems from a lack of access, but often there’s also a lukewarm or resistant attitude toward disabled people in the church. Why is that, and how do we heal this issue?

Disability and Belonging in Scripture

Growing up, I was constantly reminded by my family that I am “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14) and that God “knit me together in my mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13). For me and other Christians like me, those promises aren’t just words in a book—they are real and proven through an amazing relationship with God, built through prayer and daily trust.

Having a close relationship with God often involves wrestling with Him—being honest about our anger, pain, sadness, and struggles. I’ve had long talks with God about my disability, and rather than resenting it, I consider it a legitimate part of who I am, a blessing and a rich experience with immense value. My disability doesn’t get in the way of my purpose; it’s a part of it.

My disability is not a defect; it’s a part of My God’s purposeful Design. I know God doesn’t see me—or anyone else, disabled or not—as someone to pity. Just being alive gives us all incredible value.

However, I struggled when I first read this passage from Leviticus:

“Whatever has a defect, you shall not offer, for it shall not be acceptable on your behalf. And whoever offers a sacrifice of a peace offering to the LORD, to fulfill his vow, or a freewill offering from the cattle or the sheep, it must be perfect to be accepted; there shall be no defect in it. Those that are blind or broken or maimed, or have an ulcer or eczema or scabs, you shall not offer to the LORD, nor make an offering by fire of them on the altar to the LORD” (Leviticus 22:20-22).

I had a hard time reading that an animal with a defect was unacceptable to God.

I couldn’t help but think, “Then where does that leave me? What does that mean about what God thinks of me?” I wrestled with this question for quite some time, knowing God loved me but feeling like I was missing something.

I finally brought this up at a Bible study with a trusted teacher. She listened and said, “It’s not about what God thinks—He doesn’t consider disability something to discard. But we do.” Her explanation lit up my mind. I imagined someone preparing for sacrifice in the Jewish Temple and choosing the injured or imperfect sheep—the one they didn’t want. It would be an easy, thoughtless offering. God, however, says, “Don’t give Me something you think little of. Every living thing matters. Don’t give Me your leftovers as if I, and they, are an afterthought.” This passage isn’t about disability being unacceptable; it’s about the value we place on things—and how God challenges that.

God’s Word tells us that He loves us, that His plans for us involve hope and a future. His ways aren’t our ways, and His thoughts aren’t our thoughts. I’m thankful for that, especially when I think about how far we fall short in taking care of the planet and each other. I’m also thankful because it means God has blessed my path—whether I walk it or ride.

Disability reveals the truth that “His strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9). It exposes societal injustices and inequities, challenging us to do better. Around the world, disabled people often feel like afterthoughts, but God shows up most powerfully in those places of weakness, reminding us that we are never an afterthought to Him.

God has a special place for disabled people in His Kingdom work. We must remember that disability is not a defect; it’s a part of God’s purposeful Design.

The Apostle Paul was assured, “My grace is sufficient for you,” even as he lived with physical impairment.

God called Moses to lead the Israelites despite his struggles with speech, telling him, “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord?” (Exodus 4:11). God didn’t push Moses to “overcome” his disability; instead, He reassured him, provided support, and guided him.

And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.” (Exodus 3:12).

God’s love is for all of us, regardless of our abilities. And I’m confident that He works through each of us in ways that bring Him glory, no matter our circumstances.

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