Befriending is Better Than Fixing

We’re called to journey with our neighbours, not just do things for them

Written by Kristen Unrau

As we respond to God’s call on us to love our neighbours, do we need to think more carefully about loving those living with disabilities? 

When we think of neighbourly love we may often imagine doing things for others in the style of the Good Samaritan—providing support, making accommodations, and offering help. But I’m realizing that can be missing another important aspect of neighbour love. What about working to strengthen and deepen real, mutual relationships with people who don’t always look like we do?

Neighbour love is not about seeing someone as a project or someone to fix, but about being in a community where everyone contributes, supports, and grows together. Using the example of Jesus, we might see the doing side of love when Jesus miraculously heals someone or when Jesus dies on the cross for us. But there’s also the being side of love—the decades Jesus spent living in relationship with the humans around him.

I recently had a conversation with a friend who lives with chronic illnesses, for the sake of this article let’s call her Sarah. She shared some eye-opening experiences she’s had in Christian communities that show we need to do better on the journeying-together side of our love.

Sarah arrives at church, hoping for a peaceful Sunday. But as in the parking lot there’s no space for her close to the entrance. Most of those spots are marked “Seniors Parking Only.” She parks farther away and makes the long walk, already feeling drained.

At the entrance, there’s a small lip at the doorway—a constant struggle with her walker or cane. She feels the eyes on her, the silent impatience of others as she maneuvers over it. Inside, the stares continue. Whether she’s using her cane, walker, or even nothing at all on a rare good day, she can feel the confusion, pity, or skepticism from others.

During prayer time, when attention turns to her the focus is always on her complete healing. It’s well intentioned, but it feels one-dimensional. No one ever asks if there’s another way they can support her, or what she actually needs. It’s like the only way they see her as whole is if she’s cured.

These experiences of being excluded feel like “death by a thousand paper cuts,” she says.

She keeps coming back because she loves God and believes in community, but it’s hard not to feel like she’s always being seen as someone who doesn’t quite fit. 

As she once told me, “Is disability something that needs curing, or should churches and society in general work to become more accommodating?”

This is where we often fall short. While we can certainly keep working at making places more accessible and proclaiming that everyone is valued, ultimately we need to get to know people well enough to know more than the accessibility obstacles that challenge them.

Showing deep neighbour love means learning what they are personally experiencing in terms of being valued in their uniqueness. To what extent do they feel their voice is sought out and heard? To what extent is everyone in the community ensuring that full participation is possible for everyone else?

Inclusion isn’t just something nice a church does. It’s something we need, something Jesus commands his people to do. It’s not just good for us to ensure people with disabilities are included; we are incomplete without them. We need their insights, experiences, and voices on a full range of subjects—not only on topics such as resilience, patience, and finding joy in unexpected places. 

“Disabled Christians,” says Sarah, “have been redeemed by the same blood of Jesus as those who are able-bodied. They are complete and whole, just as they are.” We need these people in the family of God.

Think of the Bible story where a disabled man’s friends lower him through the roof to reach Jesus. It’s a great display of love, friendship, and inclusion. These friends refused to let the physical barriers of the building or the crowd prevent their friend from experiencing Jesus. Their commitment to making sure he wasn’t left out should be a model for us today. As believers, we are called to embody that same kind of radical love and dedication to our disabled friends.  

We must be willing to break through societal and structural barriers—yes, the obvious physical barriers, but perhaps first the less visible ones having to do with rethinking how we love others, how we think about friendships, and how well we are managing to create spaces for deeper relationships. Committed friendship is exactly what motivated the friends of the disabled man. Loving people well can be messy, hard, and risky, but that’s also exactly what Jesus did, and it’s what he calls us to do too.

Loving others often means accompanying them in whatever discomforts and challenges mark their world, just as Jesus joined us in our uncomfortable world—not just to do things for us but to be with us. When our friendships become deep enough that we begin to see the figurative roofs that prevent full inclusion of our friends, we will act to remove those barriers. In doing so we reflect Christ’s inclusive love.

Kristen Unrau works as an associate pastor in a rural church in Manitoba with her husband Caleb. She is passionate about discipleship and the next generation of the Church.