disability – Musings of a Gypsy Soul

By: JANA GREENE

When people ask me what was the catalyst to reconstructing my faith, my genetic conditions top the list. There is nothing like “casting demons” out of a person who was born with a disability. It really adds insult to (literal) injury. You must be spiritually lacking, if you’re not getting well! You’re “under attack.” You’re oppressed by the enemy.” If you just prayed harder, believed harder! Surrender more!

And I didn’t get physically better. At all.

So it’s obviously a problem with my faith! I’ve been told the metal in my ankle had literally turned in to bone, and that I had already “gotten my healing,” it’s just not “manifesting” yet because there is some COSMIC LESSON in it for me that I’m not quite getting, so God is giving me the business. In a LOVING way, of course, but it just feels like pain to me, so what’s up with THAT kind of love? His ways aren’t our ways, to which I say: Why did he imbed the ability to love or be loved in us? We know what feels loving, and what feels cruel. Its love that makes the (fallen, broken) world go round.

People with disabilities maybe don’t need your judgey insistence that they are sick spiritually defective people, demons inhabit them. Powers of darkness aren’t making me sick; I was born making faulty, mutated collagen that my body cannot effectively use, and a host of other 100% genetic conditions that no amount of speaking in tongues, laying on hands, and fervent prayers will fix.

And here’s the thing: That’s okay.

I’m okay with that. I am NOT okay with perpetuating this mindset to the disabled community. It’s one thing to pray for healing (I pray all the time,) it’s another to perform a sort of exorcism on a person who is just simply born in a sick body.

But I have been healed in other ways.

All the years of being told I’m healed by Jesus’ “stripes,” I truly believe I was receiving another kind of healing, just as profound. My identity as a broken person has been fixed, in that I’m not begging God 24/7 to make me whole. Maybe I’m already whole and wasn’t defective in the first place. My sense of surrender has been healed. My acceptance of my humanity – and my differently-abled body? I’m getting that shit down.

Maybe the church (and world) are being called to love disabled people where they’re at. Maybe ask what help they need, instead of making their already difficult lives become about their eternal souls. We already feel like shit. We don’t need the layers of shame, guilt, pity, and fear that comes with this kind of religion. And for God’s sake, leave demons out of it altogether, holy cow!

Love people where they’re at, just as you love and accept the able-bodied. We can do better. We must do better.

By: Jana Greene

Hi, Readers.

I was all set out to write a pithy little piece in tribute to the Great Shel Silverstein, if for no other reason that he taught me to love words and even sometimes love the WORLD, janky as it may be. It was a little ‘wherever you go, there you are’ piece, except my keyboard jammed, taking me to a magical, mystery land of four-letter words and sucked the whimsicalness right out of me visa my aft end, and then -right that minute – I got a brrrrrring notice from my iPhone alerting me that someone very special to my life was possibly having an existential crisis right that very moment, so heads-up. In her text was a lovely family reunion picture, my friend’s hand rested on her little baby bunp (the child they’d prayed and hoped for and long awaited. My dear friend has survived a LOT of bullshit in her young life and has come out with faith intact (miraculously) and I am so stinking proud of her. She has battled and overcome Anorexia and a host of other chronic, debilitating maladies – things that would make a lesser woman (me) not even want to get out of bed in the morning. AND she takes awesome care of her hubby and service dog, and loves on EVERYONE, working hard for those facing even more difficulties than her own. She is my hero.

So after I enjoyed the lovely picture for a minute or two, I scrolled down to read what someone had posted in response to the picture. Presumably someone else in the picture.

It said, “Well, stop faking your fake disability and keep your fingers out of your throat.”

And then I stopped to read it again because SURELY NOT.

Surely there are not people who are Lex Luthor/ Bob Cratchet/Lucifer/Any and all evil parts in movies played by Jack Nicholson/Wicked Witch of the West/Scarface/Hannibal Lechter HYBRID of villains.

But there it was, for God and all creation to see.

“Well, stop faking your fake disability and keep your fingers out of your throat.”

More hurtful words I cannot imagine coming out of the mouth of a demon. I know God loves this nasty person and loves her dearly. I, on the other hand, think she’s a real asshole. Hey, I’m working on it, but I ain’t yet arrived, as we say in the South.

And to my sweet, brave, amazing, mama-to-be friend? You have always always brought to mind the song by “Nice & Wild” – Diamond Girl. It was written long (long, long) before you were born, but you’ve always made me think of it. Youtube it, or download it, or do whatever you young people do these days to listen to music, but just take a listen.

Shine on, Diamond girl. You sure do shine. Kick off them haters – don’t pay them no mind.

(That last line is compliments of yours truly, but I think Shel Silverstein would approve.)

I love you.