Disability, Empathy, Getting Real

I’m not sick!

I had a fairly deep conversation with myself this morning, over a steaming sink of dirty dishes. I realized myself was making a pretty decent point, so I decided to let you in on the chat.
I grew up in a church that subscribes to practice of the laying on of hands in prayer for divine healing. For more than 20 years of my life, I attended youth camps and prayer meetings. I was in church every time the doors were opened, and sometimes I just used my key.
Countless times while in those services, I’d make my way to the altar by way of cane, walker, wheelchair or under my own power to seek prayer for a range of ailments and trials.
More often than not, I’d immediately be surrounded by my fellow believers who were praying, not for the encouragement or guidance I was seeking, but strictly for God to deliver me from my wheelchair.
Just to be clear, Friends, this talk doesn’t really have anything to do with religion, and I’ve got no grudge of any kind. It’s about the prevailing idea that all people with imperfect bodies want to be normal, that we’re anomalies in the spectrum of humanity that have to be dealt with some how.
If typical people didn’t perpetuate that ideology, we would have more ramps and fewer stairs. Ramps work for everyone. Stairs don’t. If there were fewer accessibility barriers, there would be less unemployment among disabled people. I could go on and on…
When people assumed I was seeking healing because I have a visible disability, it feels like A) that attribute of myself is totally unacceptable, and B) they’re disrespecting the way God made me, not even considering it might be for a purpose.
           
Don’t get me wrong, for the most part, they’re good people doing what they sincerely believe God wants them to do, but why didn’t occur to anyone that God made me exactly the way he meant for me to be? My whole life I’ve heard talk about how we are “fearfully and wonderfully made”, but then we pray for the deliverance of people who were somehow made incorrectly?
People will line up all day long to tell you your plight was God’s will, unless it’s something that makes them uncomfortable, then you need to be delivered from it. Who gets to decide where that line is?

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