In January 2009, my world began to blur—literally. I was 24 years old, newly married, and juggling a whirlwind of milestones: my final semester of seminary, a second round of Clinical Pastoral Education, and a fresh ordination as a deacon. Life was full, sacred, and brimming with promise.
Then came April and a diagnosis: Multiple Sclerosis. Terror gripped me. I actually prayed that I had a brain tumor rather than MS because I thought it would be treatable.
One of my first calls was to my bishop. I asked, “Will you still ordain me as a priest? What parish would want a disabled priest?” His response was swift and compassionate—he was appalled I’d even felt the need to ask. Sixteen years later, I’ve served two parishes who have embraced me wholly. Together, we’ve followed Christ through seasons of both wholeness and brokenness.
But let me be honest: it hasn’t all been grace and glory.
Living with a disability in the church has often meant being overlooked. My MS has been cited as a reason I’m not “fit” for leadership or full-time ministry. In 13 years as a priest in this diocese, I’ve been invited to serve on just one committee—Access for All God’s Children. Too often, people see my disability before they see my calling. Yet MS is not just part of my life—it’s part of my ministry. It has deepened my faith, sharpened my empathy, and taught me to extend grace because I know how desperately I need it myself.
In John 20:19–26, the risen Jesus shows his disciples the wounds of crucifixion. His disability—his scars—is not hidden. They are the very evidence of his divinity. Not despite them; because of them. This is a radical truth for Christians. Most of us will experience disability in some form during our lives. Yet our churches often struggle to fully embrace disabled Christians as whole members of the body of Christ. What if we saw human frailty not as a flaw, but as a reflection of divine truth? What if our churches welcomed disability as sacred testimony?
I challenge us all: Let our communities reflect the Kingdom of Heaven more fully by honoring the divine in every body, every story, every scar.
From our physical spaces to our ministries, there are always ways to improve inclusion. I recall a few years ago when I first joined my current parish, Fr. Jos Tharakan, the Rector at the time, made it his mission to get me involved in some ministry with the church. He assigned me to do the Prayers of the People, even though I had a speech impediment. The purpose of this was to get people used to the way I talked. This effort not only helped people to get to understand me, but it also improved my speech, so I’m told!
If we truly want to make everyone feel welcomed in our churches, then we should try reaching out and going beyond just saying “hello!”
This article was written by the Rev. Meg Rhodes, rector of St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Lee’s Summit and member of the Access for All God’s Children Committee.
