Autism Connection



Sometimes I feel a bit awkward during church Meet and Greet time, especially when I’m a visitor. But I decided to boldly venture two rows away and shake hands with a young mom. Then I smiled at her daughter; she may have been twelve or so. She didn’t smile back but looked intently into my eyes. I gently touched her painted shell necklace and complimented its vibrant colors. She didn’t speak and watched closely as I returned to my seat.

Throughout the service this dark-eyed girl turned to look at me. I’d smile each time she did. She gingerly fingered her necklace. Sometimes she’d put it in her mouth running her tongue over the edges of the shells. She seemed disconnected from her surroundings. I suspected autism. When we sang songs, she’d look at the screen, stare at the words, but remained silent.

As the pastor spoke, she opened her Bible and gazed at some of the pictures. The pastor’s message was a challenge—was I denying myself, carrying my cross, and following Christ? Was I ashamed of Jesus or sharing His truth and love in this confused world?  Not easy words to hear, even harder to implement. Those dark eyes kept turning towards me with that intense gaze.

The worship band returned to the stage, we all rose and began singing.  Again the young girl stood and listened to the music. She’d look back at me, seemingly checking on whether I was singing. I smiled at her —not really paying attention to the words I sang. More songs followed. I impatiently checked my watch as the worship team launched into another one.

But then I heard a new voice. The young girl was singing! Her sweet voice was beautiful and loud enough for me to hear—and she was singing the words on the screen. How was this possible? I thought she wouldn’t talk. She was smiling too. And then I finally paid attention to the words she sang:

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from His hand
 Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand.

While I struggled with the pastor’s challenge and was impatient with the singing, this young girl was truly worshipping Jesus. She may have been autistic, but I was the one who was disconnected. In my rush to assume she couldn’t understand, spiritual pride had blinded me to something quite critical—Jesus had met her exactly where she was. He'd given her joy and she gave him worship. You can't have one without the other. 

So, I received two sermons that night—a pastor sharing how to honor Jesus and a young girl really showing me how to worship Him.

photo credit: Mike Johnson, DSM Outdoor

Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming cost...
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Planting Good Seeds

Image
Harvest will always depend on what we plant and how well we care for our crop.    Looking over my seed packets, I notice they’re different than the ones I planted before. One package is called Word seeds. The directions say that each of my words is a seed, so it cautions me to think before I speak. Harsh words don’t produce sweet, nourishing fruit. These seeds will require thoughtful care in the garden. I see some Volunteer seeds. Those extra hours I tend to fritter away are going to be planted in a useful project.   It looks like time isn’t wasted in this garden plot. Next are some Love seeds—the directions are interesting: get up each day and love others. No specifics are given—just do something for someone every day. The seed package shows pictures of smiling faces. I smile back. As I’m ready to head to the garden with my seeds, a package falls to the ground. I open it. Inside are the tiniest seeds I’ve ever seen—but the directions s...
Read more