An Inconvenient Child

I have a friend who serves as the youth minister at a small denominational church. One of the families in the church adopted an infant (I’ll call him Steven) with special needs that resulted from his birth-mother’s substance abuse. By all accounts Steven is extremely sweet and good natured, but he is also hyper, reckless, and immature. He has a hard time staying still or keeping focused for any length of time. So far he’s been able to advance along with children his age academically, but has failed to keep pace with his peers socially or emotionally.

When Steven first arrived, the church showered his parents with congratulations and support. As most churches do, they provided meals for a week or two. Unfortunately, this is pretty much where their care for Steven and his family ended. Everyone agreed that Steven’s parents were wonderful to take him in, saints even. Yet by making Steven’s parents out to be saints, they seemed to excuse themselves from the responsibility to help them raise Steven. Steven’s parents, it was assumed, were uniquely called to care for special children like Steven. They, on the other hand, were not. And so the couple was revered by the community for their decision to take the child, even as they were left to carry out the work of raising him alone.

Things went okay when Steven’s parents took him to the church nursery. But when Steven grew and moved on to Sunday school, problems emerged. The format of the classes did not engage Steven the way they did the other kids. He was constantly distracted, and his behavior distracted other children. Gradually a consensus grew among parents and teachers that Steven’s presence was disruptive to the learning experience of the other children.

I understand this reaction. I do. I am a father, and I desperately want my children to know and follow Christ. Sunday school can be an important part of that process. I have no doubt the parents in this church had the same desire for their children. I imagine that is why they took their children’s experience at Sunday school and youth group so very seriously. It is particularly tragic, then, that in their best efforts to teach, they undermined one of the most important lessons their kids could have learned.

Sticking with Steven

When my friend arrived at the church as the new youth minister Steven was just old enough to take part in the middle school program. My friend was repeatedly warned, “Steven is, um, difficult.” Still, he made it a priority to engage every child in the church’s youth program, including Steven.

It required creativity. Volunteers were assigned to give Steven one-on-one attention and supervision during each youth meeting. They took turns so that no one would burn out. Meetings and activities were restructured so that both Steven and the other children were engaged. Events were cancelled if Steven could not be included, and new activities were created to take their place. This was not how my friend was used to doing youth ministry, but he recognized this as an opportunity to show the kids what it means to be the family of God.

As you can imagine, Steven’s parents were incredibly grateful that their son was being included. They found strength and encouragement in the church’s renewed effort to care for Steven. At the time I was a youth director at a different church, and we’d occasionally partner for youth activities. One weekend we teamed up for what would be Steven’s first overnight retreat. I still remember the look on his parents’ faces as we drove away—a look of thankfulness and exhaustion.

But not all the people in the church were pleased with the youth program’s new inclusive policy. Parents started to call and ask if Steven was coming to a certain retreat or activity. These amounted to veiled threats that if Steven was attending, then their child would not. A few families even left the church because they felt the youth program was not serving their child (probably some of the same families who brought Steven’s family food when he first arrived as an infant). Thankfully, these folks did not win the day. Once the church began including Steven they never looked back. The experience taught them that they were called to care for every child God had placed in their midst. And so in spite of the families that left, the church remained committed to making space for Steven. They had to. He was a bit of a “burden,” but he was part of the family.

Church as family

Steven’s story got me thinking about the church as a family. In a healthy family no one is excluded. All the members adapt to the others’ needs. They find ways that they all can participate and contribute.

Initially, this church asked Steven’s parents—whose strength was already depleted—to keep Steven with them during the Sunday school hour. They felt he was simply too disruptive and was keeping the other children, their children, from learning their lessons. But in their attempts to teach their children lessons about what it means to be a Christian, the church removed the child God had placed in their midst most capable of teaching them exactly that. Instead of finding out how to listen to and learn from those who are different, these children learned they are accepted only as long as they interact according to the standards and customs of the classroom. Instead of bearing one another’s burdens, these children learned church is all about me. Instead of welcoming the outcast, these children learned how to cast out.

When we become Christians we are re-born into a family, the “the family of God” (1 Pet. 4:17). This is no metaphor. Scripture does not say we are like a family. Scripture is clear—the church is a family more real than our biological ones.

We have been adopted as “children of God” (Rom. 8:14), and we cry out with Christ, “Abba! Father!” (8:15). Through Christ’s sacrifice we have been made participants in the familial love that Father, Son, and Spirit have known before time began. Not only that, we are promised participation in this love throughout all eternity.

Perhaps this is what Christ had in mind when he declared that his family, his truest family, is everyone who does the will of God (Mark 3:31-35). Then he promised that everyone who follows him will gain a family of “brothers, sisters, mothers, children” that is “a hundred times” larger than any they had before. And Jesus teaches us that this is not something we merely look forward to in the future; this is a fact “in this present age” (Mark 10:28-31, Luke 18:29-30).

The story of Steven’s church is one example of a church’s struggle to function as a family. No two families are the same. Your church’s situation comes with its own unique gifts and challenges. There is no simple checklist for how a church should behave like a family. We can say, however, that every church is called to grieve together, to laugh together, (Rom. 12:13-15), to share our resources with one another (Mark 10:28-30), to confront one another (Luke 6:41-42; Matt. 7:3-5), to hold one another accountable to our shared call (Gal. 6:1-2), and to bear one another’s burdens (Gal. 6:2).

We are called to make space at our family table for everyone who desires to follow Christ, including children like Steven. We are called to love them as if they were our own because, in the church, they truly are.

Jason Johansen is a pastor at Grace and Peace Church in Knoxville, Tennessee.