It's my birthday, and I'm celebrating with Respite Night!

Tonight I'm having the coolest birthday party ever. It'll be with a bunch of kids with special needs at a neighboring church's respite night! (I don't think they know it's my birthday, but that's okay. I know it will be a celebration regardless!)

I.
Cannot.
WAIT!

Every exemplary model of special needs ministry that I've found includes respite care events. Some are monthly, some quarterly, and they vary in style and activities. In layman's terms, a respite event is like a parent's night out. Trained volunteers, including medical professionals for liability reasons, create a safe and fun event for kids with special needs and their siblings, and parents get a break.

The commonality is that each of these churches realizes that parents who have children with special needs need support. And not just hugs and smiles, but real practical support. The man bleeding and beaten on the side of the road to Jericho didn't need to be told, "I love you, man." Well, he needed that too, but those words would be obviously false without action to back them up. Parents need more than lip service. They need action: action that shows our love for them and not just their child. action that gives them a chance to rest. action that allows married parents to esteem their marriage and single parents and other caregivers to recharge as individuals.

What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith 
but does not have works? Can that faith save him? 
If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food,
and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” 
without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? 
So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead. 
{James 2:14-17}

After celebrating with respite tonight, we'll continue the celebration tomorrow with a laidback cookout at our house with our Access families and volunteers. Because we don't just want to offer support, we want to do life together.

How good and pleasant it is
   when God’s people live together in unity!
Psalm 133:1 (NIV)

Since it's my birthday today, might I be so bold to ask for a present? It's not really for me.

I'd love it if you would think of a practical way you could do life with a family with special needs. Maybe invite them over for a meal. Include them in your playdate plans. Give them a call to check in, especially if you haven't seen them in a while. If you see a parent whose child is having a meltdown in a public place, say something to encourage them instead of passing judgment on her parenting ability. If you know a parent who has a disability, send a note or bring by a practical, tangible help like a meal. (As a momma who sometimes has significant health challenges, let me suggest that "how can I help?" and "is there anything I can do?" are nice but hard to respond to. Some folks just say that to make themselves feel better and then seem put out if I ask for something, and sometimes I'm too overwhelmed to think of a specific need you could fill. Instead, it's easier to accept help if specific offers are made: "Could I bring you a meal? I would really love to." or "We don't have anything planned tomorrow. Want to drop the kids off for a few hours so you can run some errands?")  Include a momma in your girls' night out plans, even if she might have to say no because of the demands of her family. Make plans with a dad, even if circumstances might make it hard for him to commit. If a family has to reschedule, be patient. Don't leave them to do life on their own. Enter into their lives, and allow them to enter into yours. 

That's what it's like to be a true body of believers, with acknowledged value in each part.

Love these comments.

One of my favorite blogs is Love That Max. I don't think she's a Christian, but Ellen is a momma who loves her son and who writes incisively about parenting a child with special needs.

Two days ago she posted about what moms of kids with special needs want other moms to know. As usual, the post is insightful and the comments are just as meaty. And her post has a sister post over at Scary Mommy in which readers are invited to leave comments with questions they have for parents of kids with special needs. Once again, good post with great comments.

Read 'em. And leave a comment here with your favorite.

Here are a couple that caught my eye and heart:
I'd want them to know that a "typical social invitation" would be the world to my child (with autism). It would be great if a "neurotypical child" invited my child to have lunch with him at school. Or invited her out to a movie. Or just said hello and started a conversation in the hallways. Those little things mean a lot.
And this:
When you see a child melting down in a public place, don't assume it is lack of good parenting that causes this. My son has high functioning autism, and anything can set him into one of these tantrums, lights, noise, not getting his way. When you look at me like I should know how to control my child better than that, it cuts me to the core. Remember, you are seeing this for 10 minutes. It is my life every day, sometimes all day. Smile instead.
And this:
I am not special because I have a "special needs" child. I'm just doing what I have to do - and you would do the same. Don't make me a heroine...or think I have all the answers...because I am not, and I don't.

I WANT you to talk about your problems with your kids. Gavin's medical and development issues don't trump your potty training dilemmas. It actually hurts my feelings when you assume that your problems aren't as important as mine.
And, finally, this:
1. Monkey has a physical disability, but that does not mean he is delayed in all areas. Don't be condescending when talking to him or assume that the fact that he has physical delays means he has delays in other areas as well.
2. Do not ask us within five minutes of meeting us what is "wrong" with him. In fact, refrain from using the W - word altogether. Instead, take the time to get to know Monkey as the whole person he is before inquiring about is disability. You wouldn't want strangers coming up to ask you intrusive questions about your area(s) of weakness or medical history; my son deserves the same respect.
3. It's OK to offer to help. Even if I turn you down, I will appreciate it.
4. You should not feel sorry for my son or for me. In fact, your pity irks me and damages him. All it does is send him the message that there is something "wrong" with him - and there isn't.
5. It's OK to make friends with my son, and encourage your children to do the same. He may have some differences, but he's more or less like every other little boy. At the same time, please do not act as if you're doing a noble deed by befriending the "poor little disabled boy." My son has a lot to offer, and you are just as lucky to have him as a friend as he is to have you.
6. My son is just as perfect as yours, and yours is as imperfect as mine.
 But that's enough from me. Go to Love That Max and Scary Mommy, and read the comments yourself.

Respite events without "religious content?" Not at our church.

Just after he discussed the recent allure for flashy church environments, John Piper wrote this in Counted Right in Christ (2002):
But more and more this doctrinally-diluted view of music, drama, life-tips and marketing seems out of touch with real life in this world – not to mention the next. It tastes like watered-down gruel, not a nourishing meal. It simply isn’t serious enough. It’s too playful and chatty and casual. Its joy just doesn’t feel deep enough or heartbroken or well-rooted. The injustice and persecution and suffering and hellish realities in the world today are so many and so large and so close that I can’t help but think that, deep inside, people are longing for something weighty and massive and rooted and stable and eternal. So it seems to me that the trifling with silly little sketches and breezy welcome-into-the-den styles on Sunday morning are just out of touch with what matters in life.

Of course, it works. Sort of. Because, in the name of felt needs, it resonates with people’s impulse to run from what is most serious and weighty and what makes them most human and what might open the depths of God to their souls. The design is noble. Silliness is a stepping-stone to substance. But it’s an odd path. And evidence is not ample that many are willing to move beyond fun and simplicity. So the price of minimizing truth-based joy and maximizing atmosphere-based comfort is high. More and more, it seems to me, the end might be in view. I doubt that a religious ethos with such feel of entertainment can really survive as Christian for too many more decades. Crises reveal the cracks. (p. 22-23). 

Such can be the temptation in special needs ministry. Many leaders have recommended that respite care evenings – which is a fancy way of saying parents’ night out for families who have a child with special needs, including measures taken to ensure safety and proper care – should be devoid of religious content because, after all, we want to welcome these families. If they see Christ’s love in us, without mention of His name, the presumption is that they may join us for worship the next Sunday and hear about Christ then.

To which I say: right aim, wrong method. Welcoming families is crucial. Providing them with an outlet and time with respite care is great. I do understand that leaving out a religious element allows church respite events to be recommended by city, county, and state social services departments. And it may make such events less threatening to some families.

But if we fail to present the remedy - Christ - to the their most crucial and eternal need then we’re operating a doctrinally-diluted “ministry” in which we esteem the comfort of families more than we esteem the gospel which might make them feel uncomfortable. (It isn’t always comfy to hear that we are sinners in need of a Savior and sheep in need of a Shepherd.) Furthermore, no respite program has 100% of participants show up on Sunday morning. A respite event might be the only time you get to share the good news of Jesus Christ with a family. Is it really wise to take a pass on that?

Yes, we want it to be an enjoyable night. Yes, we want to show that Christ's love for us motivates us to love others. Yes, we will have silly and fun elements, and we'll have music and other entertainment. But it's not mutually exclusive; we don't have to choose between those things and Christ. We can have fun and share the gospel. We won't have a sermon at respite, but stories we share will include Christ, as will songs and coloring pages and other activities. We're not planning to pull out our Jesus stick and smack kids on the head with it. (That's a joke, by the way. We don't have a Jesus stick, and even if we did, we wouldn't get all violent with it.) We will pull out the Bible, though, and share truth.

We will have our first respite care event in September of this year. And we will share the good news of Christ during it.

Access: It's not a fancy or unique name, but it's ours

Yesterday I posted about possible names for our ministry, and we had some good conversation in the comments. I love getting comments because it makes me feel like I'm not just typing at y'all but communicating with you, so please continue to chime in! We all benefit from that.

And the name we decided upon? Access. Read our aims below to understand why that name fits our goals. And remember that while it is important to consider names for churches and ministries, our ultimate desire isn't for Access or Providence or any other name to be made great.

Therefore God has highly exalted him 
and bestowed on him the name that is above every name
so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, 
in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 
 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
to the glory of God the Father. {Philippians 2:9-11}

We're posting our proposed Access aims today on The City, our church's Facebook-esque site. (It's actually something any church can have. Check it out here.) These aims aren't final, and we're soliciting info from our members to refine before it goes on our church website and in other materials. I would love your feedback as well! If you have a moment, please check this out (including our name and its reason!), and let me know what you think.

The aim of Access Ministry is not to create a new or separate place in our church for people with disabilities. Our mission is to ensure that children, students, and adults with special needs have access to the church as a whole. This is accomplished by:
  • Esteeming the value of each person, preborn or born, as a vital part of the body, as defined in 1 Corinthians 12. With regard to people with disabilities, this includes welcoming them with respect and love, sharing the good news of Christ with them, serving alongside them as they use their gifts, and otherwise including them as contributors to what God is doing in our body. It also includes supporting their families after prenatal or postnatal diagnosis.
  • Identifying barriers to safe involvement and full inclusion in our congregation. Once those have been identified, we seek to creatively remove those barriers and/or provide alternative options. This also involves providing support and training to staff and volunteers so that they may safely include those with disabilities in their respective ministry areas.
  • Partnering with parents and other family members, and valuing their contributions, marriages, and families. Mutually, we can equip one another.
  • Reaching out to unchurched families, that they may hear the Gospel, know Christ, and be welcome in our ministries.
As such, Access is not a separate ministry at Providence Baptist Church, but rather one that complements existing ministries so that they can intentionally include people with disabilities. Access Ministry is truly about allowing those with special needs to access ministry.

Feel free to comment on anything from the content to wording and grammar. What do you like? What doesn't work for you? If you were leading this ministry, what would you add or change?

Thanks!