Who is missing in your church who is already there?
Why disability ministry is about more than accessibility—it's about helping people truly belong in the church.
What does it mean for someone to be considered a fully active member of a church? Whether your church has a formal membership process or simply an informal understanding of who is “plugged in,” every congregation has a definition. We all know what it looks like. A fully engaged member faithfully attends worship, participates in Sunday School or a small group, serves somewhere in the life of the church, knows others and is known by them, and generally shares life with the congregation. While every church may describe it differently, there is an essential core of what it means to belong.
The question that has challenged me recently is not how we define an active member, but how people become one. We often assume that if someone wants to be involved, they simply will. They will sign up, introduce themselves, volunteer, and find their place. While there is certainly personal responsibility involved, I wonder if we have unintentionally shifted too much of the burden onto the individual. The New Testament repeatedly describes the church as a body, a family, and a household. Paul writes that we are “members one of another” (Romans 12:5), that we are “members of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19), and that we have been joined together as one body in Christ (1 Corinthians 12:12-27). Those images suggest that belonging is not merely something someone achieves but something the church actively cultivates.
Over the years, I have noticed that the people who most naturally become deeply involved in church life are often those who were already discipled well somewhere else. They understand the rhythms of church life. They know how to enter conversations, volunteer for ministries, and build relationships. They arrive already speaking the language of church culture. But what about the person who does not? What about the new believer, the socially awkward individual, the widow, the young adult who has moved to town, or the person living with a disability? If our only expectation is that they figure it out on their own, we should not be surprised when many remain on the fringes for years.
Last week, during our association’s disability ministry training, Randy Swartz shared an illustration that has remained with me. He described a man named Gary who faithfully attends church every Sunday. Gary worships, listens attentively to the sermon, and then quietly leaves. He doesn’t attend Sunday School, doesn’t serve on a committee, and few people know him beyond a polite greeting in the hallway. To most of the congregation, Gary simply appears to be reserved.
However, when someone finally takes the time to ask Gary about his experience, an entirely different picture emerges. Gary struggles to build friendships because of an invisible disability. He may or may not have a formal diagnosis; he may simply have difficulty connecting with others. No one has ever invited him to sit with them, included him outside of Sunday morning, or helped him discover a place to serve. He cannot attend Wednesday night because he lacks transportation, and over time he has quietly concluded that he probably has little to contribute because of his disability or his social limitations.
What strikes me most about Gary’s story is that none of his barriers are architectural, theological, or constitutional. The church has not intentionally excluded him. There is no policy preventing him from belonging. Instead, the barriers are relational. Everyone assumes Gary prefers to be left alone because he is quiet. Meanwhile, Gary assumes no one wants to know him because no one has ever pursued him. Those assumptions reinforce one another until isolation simply becomes normal.
That is why, in many ways, it honestly does not matter whether Gary has a disability or not. If we are truly the body of Christ, then the weight is on us to meet him where he is and bring him along with us. Paul reminds us that “the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable” (1 Corinthians 12:22). He goes on to say that God has ordered the body “that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another” (1 Corinthians 12:25). An alone person in a church should concern us because isolation is contrary to God’s design for His people. We are not simply individuals who happen to worship in the same room each week. We are members of one body and brothers and sisters adopted into one family. Families notice when someone is sitting alone.
This is one of the reasons I believe disability ministry is about far more than accessibility, sensory rooms, or specialized programming. Those ministries are important and often necessary, but they are not the end goal. The goal is belonging that leads to full participation. It is helping every member of Christ’s body develop meaningful relationships and discover the gifts God has given them to build up the church. The early church “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship” (Acts 2:42), and Luke goes on to describe believers who shared life together, cared for one another, and met one another’s needs. Fellowship was never an optional ministry of the church; it was one of its defining characteristics.
This kind of ministry cannot be accomplished solely by a pastor or the deacons or that one welcoming lady on the greeter team. It requires an entire congregation that sees people, pursues them, and refuses to let them remain invisible. Hebrews 10:24-25 tells us to “consider how to stir up one another to love and good works.” That command requires intentionality. We cannot stir up those we never notice, encourage those we never know, or bear the burdens of those whose names we have never learned (Galatians 6:2).
As I reflected on Randy’s illustration, I found myself asking a different question. How many “Garys” have I unknowingly walked past? How many have mistaken my friendly greeting for genuine fellowship while quietly wondering if anyone really knows them? Perhaps one of the healthiest questions we could ask every Sunday is not simply, “Did I enjoy worship today?” but rather, “Who is still standing alone, and how can I invite them into the life of the body?” Sometimes the most profound act of ministry is not preaching another sermon or launching another program. Sometimes it is simply walking across the sanctuary, introducing yourself, and saying, “Would you sit with us today?”
Perhaps the greatest measure of a healthy church is not simply how many people attend but how many people truly belong. Jesus told His disciples, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). If our churches are to bear faithful witness to Christ, then we must become places where no one is left to worship alone for long. Our theology of the church must be matched by our practice of being the church.