Ep. 10: Most Churches Exclude Me
Inclusion is a hot buzz word around disability today. Many churches are doing their part when it comes to ministering to people with disabilities. However, a church should be as diverse in its leadership as it is in its congregation. In this episode, Mandi calls for true inclusion in the church.
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Transcript
Mandi: Mandi Frantz here welcoming you to my podcast - Find Your Beautiful: Life Through the Eyes of a Christian Disabled Woman.
Mandi: I will specifically talk about churches here since I am a Christian, but most of the points I'll make apply to any place of worship. In 2011, my husband and I went to an awesome event at a church in the South Bronx in New York City. We went with a bunch of friends from the camp I talked about, the same camp we met at all those years ago. The event was essentially a concert with different local artists singing, doing spoken word, and sharing their talents with us. After the fun time we had, we decided to check out the church as a potential new home church for us to regularly attend. We went on a weeknight to their weekly Bible Study. We got there and found out the Bible Studies were upstairs, two flights of stairs to be more precise. My husband is a big guy and was able to carry me up and down the stairs, though this wasn't exactly the safest thing to do. We quickly fell in love with the pastor, the congregation, and the overall worship.
The very first Sunday service we attended, I heard the keyboardist play a few notes of a song called We're Blessed and I was sold. Everyone knows I love music. I've been singing pretty much since I started talking around 2 years old. When I was younger, my best friend and I would write songs together on the school bus ride home. We even named our duo and had a friend create a CD cover for us. Good times! Anyway, I knew I wanted to be part of the worship team, singing with those other beautiful voices, at church. I auditioned and was brought on the team. It was one of the best things I ever did to this day and I cherished every song I sang with them.
However, there was a problem. The altar, which was pretty much a stage, where all the singers stood during worship, where the pastor preached his sermons, was not wheelchair accessible. Like the upstairs Bible study area, there were only steps. Of course, I was accommodated. I'd sit next to the stage, with everyone else above me and worship my heart out. Soon, the singers came down to the same level as me, but it was difficult for the full church to see us from the pews. Oh the pews. Yet another non-inclusive structure in most churches. I would sit in the aisle during the services. If there were multiple people in chairs, we were asked to sit on one side so we weren't an obstacle in the aisle. My choice for sitting where I wanted was constantly taken from me.
A few years into my time at the church, they were doing a major renovation of the altar. I still feel tears of joy when I think about it. They added a ramp to the altar so that I could be up top with everyone else. From that altar I sang backup vocals, sang lead parts, and delivered my own message to the congregation. I was more than just the recipient of prayer, more than just part of the flock. I was leading others into the presence of the Holy Spirit. I was an equal.
While these experiences were meaningful to me, I think the more important thing to note is the significance of the impact this had on the church and the next disabled member after me. When I first started attending and participating, those steps said a lot to me. First, they acted as police tape does at a crime scene. They said to me, "You are welcome to observe from a distance." They also said, "These people did not think you would, or maybe could serve here." I was an afterthought who was at the mercy of accommodations. As I mentioned last week, people mean well when they provide accommodations, but the need for accommodations implies that people with disabilities were not thought of.
This message is especially wrong for the church to be giving. Church should be the one place where everyone feels welcome, both to receive and serve. In the Bible, specifically the book of Matthew chapter 28 verse 19, Jesus says "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations..." There is no discrimination regarding who should make disciples, other than needing to be a believer, but nothing that excludes people with disabilities. This means the church is in part responsible for ensuring that everyone who enters is both discipled and given the opportunity to disciple.
Physical barriers speak volumes, but as I'm sure you can imagine, attitudinal barriers, meaning wrong perceptions, can be even more damaging within the church. For a number of reasons, my family left our home church after 7 years. We were introduced to a new church at another Christian concert-like event. I Googled the church and found out they live-stream their Sunday services on Youtube. The first Sunday, I watched from home. I loved it! They have a phenomenal worship team, great preaching, and ministries to serve the little ones. They have an elevator that reaches all their floors and there are no pews! This was a huge upgrade in my disability view.
Sadly, there are still some downsides, both physical and attitudinal. First, the altar is not accessible to all. I don't know if I would take on the great responsibility of being on a worship team right now, but the fact that this physical barrier exists, reminds me that it wouldn't be easy even if I did want to. The other issue is much more subtle, and again comes from good intentions. To best explain the attitudinal barriers, I'll give you an example. As I said, this church does not have pews, but instead has chairs that link together and can be moved. The church also has ushers who help people find a seat. Every time I've gone, I'm immediately ushered to the very front. I know people are trying to be kind and thoughtful, trying to give me the best seat in the house. However, no one ever asked me where I wanted to sit. I remember one Sunday when my family was running late. We told the usher we would sit wherever there were available seats. He kindly said, "We usually sit wheelchairs in the front." He proceeded to the front of the church, where people were already seated, and cleared out the row. Again, this was a very well meaning gesture, but is actually an exclusive attitude, not an inclusive one. Like any typically functioning person, I should be able to sit wherever I want, within reason of course.
I'll pause here as I'm now getting into next week's topic, but I do want to note a few more things. As a person with a disability, it is up to me to advocate for myself. It is true that I could talk to the pastor about the need to renovate their altar. I could insist to the usher that I want to choose my seat. In fact, these are things I may do. However, as I've also discussed, life together is a two-way street. The same way some celebrities wish they could just eat a meal without having to perform for the other diners, there are many days I wish I could go about my day without being the disability advocate. Sometimes, I just wish the world got it. I hope this has shed some light for you so that we can make this life more Beautiful for all.
Mandi: In case you haven't heard, my podcast now has a website! Go to the description of any episode, or to my Instagram bio at MandiBoxBeauty to check it out. On my website, you can listen to episodes, read full transcripts, and contact me. Be sure you sign up for my Very Important Beauty (V.I.B.) club while you're there. The first email you'll get from me includes the very first letter my husband, Curtis, ever wrote to me!
This podcast is also available on iTunes, Google Podcasts, Spotify, and any other place you like to listen! Visit my website linked in the description to get access to all the platforms.
[Mandi voiceover to 'Compton' music]: Next week I'll be talking about ableism and microaggressions. Tune in to the episode called, "Are You Prejudice?" ‘Til next time Beauties!
Mandi: Mandi Frantz here welcoming you to my podcast - Find Your Beautiful: Life Through the Eyes of a Christian Disabled Woman.
[Upbeat Background Music]
Mandi: My first God encounter happened when I was 6 years old. It was at a faith-based summer camp about an hour north of New York City. That summer, and the six summers that followed, are some of my best childhood memories. To this day, 26 years later, I am still good friends with many of my mentors from camp. While I wish I could say I had a face-to-face, or out of this world spiritual encounter with God when I was 6, it wasn't that. My encounter with God was through the people I was surrounded by. At that camp, I felt a love like I hadn't experienced before. The counselors listened to me, laughed with me, cried with me, and reflected the love I would soon discover was from God.
That camp was my church for many years as my family weren't churchgoers. That 7 to 10 day period every summer taught me what a faith-based ministry was meant to be. There were imperfections. People are imperfect, but it set the foundation for my future, even before I knew what my calling was. The summer that I turned 18, I spent my first week at the camp I grew up in as a staff member. I was a Program Assistant, helping the Program Directors brainstorm ideas for fun activities. A few summers later, I became the Program Director and held that title until I joined the staff full-time as an Advocate.
It never dawned on me that my leadership within this ministry was a unique opportunity. I thought all places that focused on God would view people with disabilities in leadership roles as the norm. Sadly, this isn't the case. I've come to discover that most ministries are designed to cater to those who they view as in need. We're all broken. The fact that we all sin confirms this, but even people who are in need still have something to offer. If I'm worthy enough to be saved, I should be worthy enough to serve.
Today I'm going to talk about how many churches are actually exclusive to people with disabilities, though they may not even realize it.
That camp was my church for many years as my family weren't churchgoers. That 7 to 10 day period every summer taught me what a faith-based ministry was meant to be. There were imperfections. People are imperfect, but it set the foundation for my future, even before I knew what my calling was. The summer that I turned 18, I spent my first week at the camp I grew up in as a staff member. I was a Program Assistant, helping the Program Directors brainstorm ideas for fun activities. A few summers later, I became the Program Director and held that title until I joined the staff full-time as an Advocate.
It never dawned on me that my leadership within this ministry was a unique opportunity. I thought all places that focused on God would view people with disabilities in leadership roles as the norm. Sadly, this isn't the case. I've come to discover that most ministries are designed to cater to those who they view as in need. We're all broken. The fact that we all sin confirms this, but even people who are in need still have something to offer. If I'm worthy enough to be saved, I should be worthy enough to serve.
Today I'm going to talk about how many churches are actually exclusive to people with disabilities, though they may not even realize it.
[Mandi voices Ad (ads change and will vary)]
[Doorbell Sound Effect]
Mandi: I will specifically talk about churches here since I am a Christian, but most of the points I'll make apply to any place of worship. In 2011, my husband and I went to an awesome event at a church in the South Bronx in New York City. We went with a bunch of friends from the camp I talked about, the same camp we met at all those years ago. The event was essentially a concert with different local artists singing, doing spoken word, and sharing their talents with us. After the fun time we had, we decided to check out the church as a potential new home church for us to regularly attend. We went on a weeknight to their weekly Bible Study. We got there and found out the Bible Studies were upstairs, two flights of stairs to be more precise. My husband is a big guy and was able to carry me up and down the stairs, though this wasn't exactly the safest thing to do. We quickly fell in love with the pastor, the congregation, and the overall worship.
The very first Sunday service we attended, I heard the keyboardist play a few notes of a song called We're Blessed and I was sold. Everyone knows I love music. I've been singing pretty much since I started talking around 2 years old. When I was younger, my best friend and I would write songs together on the school bus ride home. We even named our duo and had a friend create a CD cover for us. Good times! Anyway, I knew I wanted to be part of the worship team, singing with those other beautiful voices, at church. I auditioned and was brought on the team. It was one of the best things I ever did to this day and I cherished every song I sang with them.
However, there was a problem. The altar, which was pretty much a stage, where all the singers stood during worship, where the pastor preached his sermons, was not wheelchair accessible. Like the upstairs Bible study area, there were only steps. Of course, I was accommodated. I'd sit next to the stage, with everyone else above me and worship my heart out. Soon, the singers came down to the same level as me, but it was difficult for the full church to see us from the pews. Oh the pews. Yet another non-inclusive structure in most churches. I would sit in the aisle during the services. If there were multiple people in chairs, we were asked to sit on one side so we weren't an obstacle in the aisle. My choice for sitting where I wanted was constantly taken from me.
A few years into my time at the church, they were doing a major renovation of the altar. I still feel tears of joy when I think about it. They added a ramp to the altar so that I could be up top with everyone else. From that altar I sang backup vocals, sang lead parts, and delivered my own message to the congregation. I was more than just the recipient of prayer, more than just part of the flock. I was leading others into the presence of the Holy Spirit. I was an equal.
While these experiences were meaningful to me, I think the more important thing to note is the significance of the impact this had on the church and the next disabled member after me. When I first started attending and participating, those steps said a lot to me. First, they acted as police tape does at a crime scene. They said to me, "You are welcome to observe from a distance." They also said, "These people did not think you would, or maybe could serve here." I was an afterthought who was at the mercy of accommodations. As I mentioned last week, people mean well when they provide accommodations, but the need for accommodations implies that people with disabilities were not thought of.
This message is especially wrong for the church to be giving. Church should be the one place where everyone feels welcome, both to receive and serve. In the Bible, specifically the book of Matthew chapter 28 verse 19, Jesus says "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations..." There is no discrimination regarding who should make disciples, other than needing to be a believer, but nothing that excludes people with disabilities. This means the church is in part responsible for ensuring that everyone who enters is both discipled and given the opportunity to disciple.
Physical barriers speak volumes, but as I'm sure you can imagine, attitudinal barriers, meaning wrong perceptions, can be even more damaging within the church. For a number of reasons, my family left our home church after 7 years. We were introduced to a new church at another Christian concert-like event. I Googled the church and found out they live-stream their Sunday services on Youtube. The first Sunday, I watched from home. I loved it! They have a phenomenal worship team, great preaching, and ministries to serve the little ones. They have an elevator that reaches all their floors and there are no pews! This was a huge upgrade in my disability view.
Sadly, there are still some downsides, both physical and attitudinal. First, the altar is not accessible to all. I don't know if I would take on the great responsibility of being on a worship team right now, but the fact that this physical barrier exists, reminds me that it wouldn't be easy even if I did want to. The other issue is much more subtle, and again comes from good intentions. To best explain the attitudinal barriers, I'll give you an example. As I said, this church does not have pews, but instead has chairs that link together and can be moved. The church also has ushers who help people find a seat. Every time I've gone, I'm immediately ushered to the very front. I know people are trying to be kind and thoughtful, trying to give me the best seat in the house. However, no one ever asked me where I wanted to sit. I remember one Sunday when my family was running late. We told the usher we would sit wherever there were available seats. He kindly said, "We usually sit wheelchairs in the front." He proceeded to the front of the church, where people were already seated, and cleared out the row. Again, this was a very well meaning gesture, but is actually an exclusive attitude, not an inclusive one. Like any typically functioning person, I should be able to sit wherever I want, within reason of course.
I'll pause here as I'm now getting into next week's topic, but I do want to note a few more things. As a person with a disability, it is up to me to advocate for myself. It is true that I could talk to the pastor about the need to renovate their altar. I could insist to the usher that I want to choose my seat. In fact, these are things I may do. However, as I've also discussed, life together is a two-way street. The same way some celebrities wish they could just eat a meal without having to perform for the other diners, there are many days I wish I could go about my day without being the disability advocate. Sometimes, I just wish the world got it. I hope this has shed some light for you so that we can make this life more Beautiful for all.
[Sudden Transition Sound]
Mandi: Do you believe that church leadership should be just as diverse as the congregation?
Share your thoughts by downloading the Anchor Mobile App, and leaving me a voice message through the app. Your message might even get featured in an episode! If writing is more your thing, you can email me at th3mandibox@gmail.com, or find me on social media at MandiboxBeauty.
Share your thoughts by downloading the Anchor Mobile App, and leaving me a voice message through the app. Your message might even get featured in an episode! If writing is more your thing, you can email me at th3mandibox@gmail.com, or find me on social media at MandiboxBeauty.
[Bling]
Mandi: In case you haven't heard, my podcast now has a website! Go to the description of any episode, or to my Instagram bio at MandiBoxBeauty to check it out. On my website, you can listen to episodes, read full transcripts, and contact me. Be sure you sign up for my Very Important Beauty (V.I.B.) club while you're there. The first email you'll get from me includes the very first letter my husband, Curtis, ever wrote to me!
This podcast is also available on iTunes, Google Podcasts, Spotify, and any other place you like to listen! Visit my website linked in the description to get access to all the platforms.
[Mandi voiceover to 'Compton' music]: Next week I'll be talking about ableism and microaggressions. Tune in to the episode called, "Are You Prejudice?" ‘Til next time Beauties!
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