Let the little children come to me

Once my son, Paul, had been diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder, I couldn’t leave him anywhere. Not even church. One day, I bumped into the Sunday school teacher Paul had had the previous year, who asked me why she never saw him anymore. When I explained the situation to her, without a moment’ hesitation, she asked me to bring him to church the following week so she could watch him. To this day, I am amazed by the significance of that single act of obedience—turns out, it was the starting point of what was to become a huge ministry.

Sunday came, and Paul was happily reunited with Mrs. Rice in one of the empty classrooms at church. In the months that followed, she played games with him and taught him lessons from the AWANA book. One of the first verses he memorized was Ephesians 6:1, which he thought was: “Children obey your parents in the Lord, for Mrs. Rice,” instead of “for it is right.”

Let the little children come to me, said Jesus, and come they did. First Didi, then Ross, then Christina. That was 1996. Soon, one classroom spilled over into two, and it soon became a full-fledged ministry called Access Ministry. Thirteen years later, over 500 families touched by disability file through the doors of McLean Bible Church every weekend.

Until he left for college, Paul volunteered in Access. Here’s something he wrote in one of his college application essays: “I don’t have to think too hard or long to know what it’s like for those kids, because I was once just like them. So I do what I can to help them know that they’re not on some lonely planet in the left quadrant of the universe, and that I really do appreciate the many ways they show the inner workings of their enigmatic minds.

The other volunteers in the class often look over at me in amusement to see what I’m doing with the kids, whether it’s helping a boy build a cardboard structure only to watch him knock it down seconds later, or voluntarily crushing myself under a foam wedge while another kid lies on top of it. In a way, I’m an interpreter between the two worlds by helping volunteers connect with the students, and helping the students feel connected to the real world. At the end of each class, I feel good, even when I have had to physically suffer as an entertainer.

Most may not remember me years from now, but maybe a few will, just as I still remember the people who were kind and accepting of me when I was young. And people say autistics are not aware of their surroundings!”

But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Luke 14:13