Disability | Sighs and Hallelujahs

9Feb/111

Disguising Disability

"Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
-- Cyril Connolly

Something has struck me as of late. It seems to me that most folks with disabilities that write or speak on the topic -- and that appeal to a broader audience -- tend to be motivational speakers. This is especially true within the Christian culture.

That's disappointing to me. I understand that my life, and others' that have overcome disability, are inspiring from an outsider's perspective. To be honest, I sometimes amaze myself. But, it scares me that I might have to hide a piece of who I am in order speak to you.

The physical limitations that I exhibit from a stage or a photo will always be fairly obvious, I suppose. That is also true for a lady in a wheelchair or a man without arms and legs.

What I'm speaking to is the message that everything is okay and that God has made me content and ubiquitously happy. That's almost required for most folks to encounter disability. In other words, what can I do to hide or limit the pain and challenge of my disability in order to make you comfortable in engaging the conversation?

That is the dichotomy I wrestle with. Some of us will never escape our marked bodies that so clearly exhibit loss. Yet, there seems to be a desire that most of the words we speak exhibit very little of that pain and reality.

I will likely never write a New York Times' best-seller or speak to audiences numbering in the thousands at packed arenas. My problem is that my thoughts will always be tinged with reality of the hardship that disability brings.

Yes, there are happy and joy-filled days in my life -- days where the light of life seems to shine down directly on me. But, there are nights like tonight where my worn knee throbs, my emotions are raw, and my mind is tired. Therefore, I'll always speak the truth about challenges and not minimize the limitations inherent in my body.

After all, I'd rather stay true to myself and end up writing for an audience of one.

Tagged as: audience, honesty, Motivational speakers, pain 1 Comment

28Nov/102

Jesus was Broken

Indeed, he was. I don't mean in the sense that when he was nailed to the cross he exclaimed, “My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?” Instead, I mean that Jesus was broken from birth.

Before we go getting into a big theological argument over the perfection of Christ, let me clarify what I mean. I don't mean Christ was sinful or that he was imperfect in how he lived morally. But, I do believe that he entered into this world and lived in a way that none would have imagined, at a level that most of us modern-day humans would consider weak.

That is one of the things I love about the Christmas season. In the revelation of God, the cracks of humanity show through. God born to a virgin? I bet that was the talk of the town! There is no lineage or great power that Jesus came through. He was born in a manger - a worn-out cattle stall - because there was no room at the inn. He was a carpenter's son, your average Joe. And, he mixed and mingled with, not only the commoner, but with prostitutes and tax collectors - the worst of his day.

No matter how we portray the baby Jesus in a manger, with a glowing head, kings bowing down to worship, or the Magi following the star, there were few indications at the birth of Jesus that he was God. To an outsider, his arrival was very broken.

We build up this holiday with gifts, lights, trees and beautiful decorations. Instead, I wonder if we should be looking at the areas of life that are broken, unglamorous and wrecked. I think we have so much to learn from those people and things that we tend to push aside, especially at the holidays. If God spoke through the broken at Jesus' birth, then what would compel Him to speak any other way now?

Today, we let the commercials speak. We let the value of gifts speak to our love for others. We let our busyness and our activities speak for the joy of the season.

We eat, drink and celebrate as if this holiday focused around a great king and a feast for the ages. That is the dichotomy of it. We should celebrate, we should feast, and we should proclaim the arrival of the King.

Sometimes I think we try to ignore the brokenness of the entire event, though.

Now, I am one who likes to hide brokenness and the messiness of life if it all possible. That is part of my story of growing up with a disability. I have always wanted to wear clothes that you cannot see have special adaptations made to them. I've worked so hard to overcome obstacles, just to prove that I am one of you. I live on my own, with no apparent barriers in my way, an independent adult. And, I was raised to be “normal” - meaning unbroken, in how I heard it.

Maybe that's why I love the broken story of Christmas now. Over the past several years I have struggled and wrestled with my story in ways that I had ignored for nearly three decades. I have come to see my own cracks, my brokenness, the ways in which I will never be “normal”. I've come to own my disability in ways I never thought I would. With that, I have come to see my own brokenness better and to see it in others as well.

It gives me hope, though, that even God was broken in his creation and arrival upon this earth.

So, on this first week of Advent, let us keep an eye and an ear out for the cracked and broken around us. For it is most likely in these areas apparent areas of weakness that we will see and hear God the most.