It was a typical weekday morning dropping my daughter off at preschool—until the principal approached me with unexpected news.
The children were preparing for their year-end concert, and my daughter had been paired with a classmate with special needs. The principal gently warned me that the boy might have a meltdown during rehearsals or the performance and suggested that I be mentally prepared for any incidents.
I felt a mix of emotions. On one hand, I was proud that my four-year-old had been entrusted with this role. On the other, a small part of me hesitated, wondering about the challenges she might face. And in that moment of hesitation, I felt the Spirit’s rebuke.
For years in my last job, I had worked on disability policy in the civil service. Today I actively promote inclusive music and dance programmes through the Methodist School of Music. So why was it difficult to embrace inclusivity when it became personal?
How does worship shape our ability to embrace those who are different from us?
That question lingered in my heart, but it soon expanded into a bigger reflection: How does worship shape our ability to embrace those who are different from us?
In 2015, artist Hyatt Moore painted a striking image of the great banquet in Luke 14—a table where the poor, crippled, blind and lame are honoured guests. It is a powerful vision of God’s upside-down kingdom. Yet, while we affirm this vision, living it out is another challenge.
How does our worship prepare us for the kind of kingdom Jesus describes?
- Does our worship reflect this vision of radical hospitality?
Do our churches welcome those with disabilities and neurodivergence, not just as visitors but as fully participating members of the body of Christ?
- Do we make space for different abilities in our liturgies and music?
Is there room for the participation of those who may not fit conventional expectations of engagement?
- How does our worship shape our responses outside the sanctuary?
If worship is meant to form us, does it move us towards compassion and inclusion in our daily lives?
In the end, I chose to see my daughter’s experience as a teachable moment. After each rehearsal, we processed what happened together. On the concert day, she danced on stage, at times alone, as her partner hesitated. But in one small, beautiful moment, she gently nudged him to join in. Some may have felt sorry for her, but to me, that moment held a glimpse of hope—of a world where differences are embraced with love and patience.
If worship is truly about shaping us into God’s people, then it must cultivate a posture of openness and love, especially towards those whom society often overlooks. Worship is not only about the words we sing or the prayers we say but also about the habits it instils in us—habits that should form a people ready to embody the inclusivity of God’s kingdom.
As we pray “on earth as it is in heaven”, may our worship not only reflect the vision of heaven but also lead us to live it out, here and now.