The Big Reveal

I’ve been waiting since July to bring up this topic. Waiting until the people at my church had gotten to know me and (hopefully) trust me enough to hear it with compassion.

In February I came up with a plan for when and how to break my news. I'd do it from the pulpit so many would hear it all at once with no one left out, on the first Sunday of the month because attendance is usually better on "Communion Sundays." I actually created a sermon series around this one event. For weeks, I'd write out in my mind what I wanted to say, alway when I was supposed to be doing something else – until finally, just after Easter, I wrote a draft. After that, I could work on what I needed to do in that moment.

The message came together surprisingly easily. I hadn’t expected that. And I believe it had some impact even though attendance was low. (It was the first lovely weekend weather of the season.) I usually print 15 copies of the sermon. This week I’ve had to reprint twice; we’re into the third dozen. (Maybe someone’s just swooping them up and tossing them, though. Who knows?)

The message is about acceptance, something I’ve too often felt was absent in my own story. Here’s part of what I presented:

Jill never realized she was different. It didn’t show like it does when someone’s accompanied by a guide dog or has trouble walking or speaking.

Jill grew up doing all the things children did. She didn’t have many friends but as she grew older she chalked it up to being a quiet person. After graduating from college, she got a job and started a family. Jill was a fairly well adjusted person, so she expected to have a good life.

But there were snags along the way that made it harder than she expected. Little things, like laughing at the story only to find the others around her looking at her curiously. Or having to look at the floor or out the window when she talked about something close to her. Big things, too, like missing all the nonverbal stuff in any conversation. And without ever meaning to, regularly offend people with her words. She misinterpreted friendliness for true friendship or romantic interest, and, because of this, she was, as one person put it, the frequent victim of other people’s social weaknesses.

Jill followed rules, but by studying other people, she learned that there are many shades of gray. Only newspapers or Dalmatians are black and white.

She came to accept that she was odd. She acted as if it didn’t matter. But her friendless state was her secret shame. Jill longed for close connections, but as she looked back, even in school, her closest friends always had other best friends.

God makes us for relationship. We are hard-wired to be in connection with not only the Holy, but with each other and our world. We deny this at our own peril.

Jill’s story is my story. It was simply easier to tell it in the third person. Three years ago, I found out that I have Asperger’s Syndrome.

I have no doubt that God loves me, as God loves you and the man who lives under the bridge. We all need to work on accepting whoever's hard for us to accept. April was Autism Awareness Month. May is Mental Health Awareness Month. This seemed like a good time for a reminder.