Sincerely wanting to make a difference in the life of a person who has a disability is an important step. You are not being kind out of an immediate emotional reaction, a feeling of pity, or some other motive other than making a positive difference in the person’s life. The motive isn’t a passing good deed but a deep reaction of really wanting to help. When I consider this, David comes to mind.
David’s family and my wife and I were having lunch in a Louisville restaurant. After we parked our car, I walked to his car and offered to carry him. When I carried him into the dining room, I noticed the all-too-typical reactions - people staring, talking behind their hands, and diverting their eyes when caught staring. Sometimes in similar situations, I have talked to the people who were staring, explained the disability, and generally became an instant advocate for the person. With David, I didn't do anything overtly. I felt sad that he would have to deal with such unkindness. Instead, I determined to be a better friend to people with disabilities by telling others they have value, their feelings are important, and they have souls. David's mom echoes the feeling that needs to be fostered, "My love for David is not based on his 'normalness' but instead on his inherent worth as a human being created in God's image."
That weekend started a wonderful friendship with his family. His dad, Don, is the head of a mega-church’s counseling service. His mom, Danna, is a counselor in a private practice. His sister, Jessica, fourteen months older than David, adores her brother. A younger brother rounds out the family. A nice part of our friendship was participating in disability awareness programs together. Usually I spoke and Danna sang the poignant song, "Sometimes Miracles Hide." The lyrics describe a couple who decide not to abort a child with a disability. Near the end of the solo, David joins his mother on the stage and sometimes sings along.
My friendship with David reached a crescendo in Kansas City at a large church convention. My role was to address a morning session on compassion. Before my message, Danna sang "Sometimes Miracles Hide" and, in regular fashion, David joined her.
During the preparation of the sermon, I thought it would be effective to have a person with a disability be part of the conclusion. Since David would be there, he would be ideal. While I wanted it to be a good experience for him, I recognized it was a lot for a little fellow to handle. With the approval of his parents and their assuring comment, "When he sees you, he will be fine;" we agreed that David would join me on the platform.
Using the story of the Good Samaritan as a text, I underscored the necessity of responding to the many needs that surround us in our communities. I suggested that we meet the needs of people where they are and, like the Samaritan, get in the ditch with them. “Compassion,” I defined, “is what you do when the tears dry.” After I talked about the needs of the disability community, David walked onto the stage. I picked him up and urged the audience to respond to David and each individual like him as a person, not as a person with a diagnosis. David's intent gaze into my eyes let me know it was a good experience for him.
It was a catalytic moment for a renewed commitment to want to smooth the path for people with disabilities. The opportunity to encourage hundreds of convention goers to treat people like David with Christ-like love was a giant step in my personal pledge to run interference for David and people like him. I hope that many of the people who heard that sermon opened their hearts, lives, businesses, and churches to people with disabilities.
A writer reporting in Christian Standard (August, 1997) said, As he held in his arms a little boy with Down syndrome, there was a hush over the audience. Leaving the arena, men and women unashamedly wiped tears from their eyes. The speaker’s question was pertinent to all of us, “What do you do after the tears?”
One solid suggestion is to want to make a difference in the lives of people with disabilities.
Dr. Jim Pierson |