The Gospel and Autism

[[ I typed this post about a year ago after Jackson (then 6 years old) told me emphatically he didn't want God in his life, but decided not to publish the intensely personal and controversial struggle. I'm still worried about it being clear, but something happened today that made me feel like I should share. ]]

Have you ever tried Googling that phrase, the Gospel and autism? You get more useful hits using faith or religion and autism, but I'm often searching for tidbits and info on the things most heavily weighing on my heart. So, I Googled that phrase recently, and found something that struck a nerve.

Before Jackson's diagnosis I thought you didn't have to teach a child to lie, and you didn't have to explain God for them to believe. They just do on both counts. Well, not necessarily. While the self-preservation instinct that causes a child to lie is evident in Jackson in other ways, he didn't figure out lying for a long time, and I don't know when he would have without having learned from his brother and other typically developing kids. He has a big imagination, especially when it comes to super heroes and the tooth fairy, but he seems to struggle more with spiritual things. The way you typically talk to a child about God just doesn't work for him. I think I mentioned before how he reacted to the Sunday School talk about asking Jesus into his heart. It was a traumatic thought for him, asking this invisible God who created all things and was bigger than the universe to enter his little heart. In his mind, this would be painful and might result in an explosion.

Needless to say the communication barrier and the literal, fact based way Jackson thinks has been a serious curve ball for me. During one conversation in which I was trying to answer one of his questions by explaining what it means for Jesus to be IN you and you to be IN Him (and obviously failing at it), Jackson looked at me plain as day and said, "I don't think I want that. Nope. I don't want God." Now, you know why I'm Googling things like 'the Gospel and autism.' It broke my heart, the tears started welling up, and I had to leave the room.

Now let's pause for a moment and examine the tears. I accepted Christ when I was six years old. I can't remember a moment in my childhood where He wasn't present and active in my life. There were moments when I could literally feel His presence surrounding me. I had a little hill overlooking a cattle pasture that was my praying spot. I used to go there, lie on the ground, watch the clouds and the trees and talk to Him like He was right there next to me. I've read through the Bible several times, and each time is new and amazing. My faith is not a religion for me. It's a relationship. Now I've struggled and doubted. Done many things I wish I could take back, at times exhibiting anything but devotion to this God. I've gone through times when my faith was shaken and purged, but in the end (and hopefully TO the end) it only came out stronger. My God is not some distant figure I hear about at church, read about in an ancient book and struggle to please hoping for heaven when I die. He's my father, my brother, my husband, my friend....my everything. I cannot imagine my life without my God, and I look forward to the day I get to see His face, hold His hand and hear His voice. It's a big deal, and I want that for my children.

Wanting that same relationship with God for my children, my heart has obviously been heavy since Jackson's statement. My husband has reminded me that he's only 6 (almost 7), and it's not time to panic yet. But, my heart is heavy all the same. I kept praying, "God, he can do without many things, but he can't do without You." Oh, the restless heart of a mother. Back to Googling the Gospel and autism.

In my search, I landed on an autism forum where someone asked how you share the Gospel with an autistic child. The general consensus was that it's child abuse to teach a child, especially an autistic child, about God. That it is taking advantage of their blind trust in you as their caregiver. According to this forum, you should wait until they are old enough or developed enough to seek faith on their own. At first I was irritated almost ready to join the forum just to rebut their stupid advice. Obviously these people aren't parents. The only love greater than my love for my babies is God's love for me. And, obviously these people aren't religious. When you truly believe something, separating your beliefs from your life, as a parent or anything else, is just not possible. So, if a parent really loves their children and truly believes in the Bible, NOT teaching their children about God isn't an option. While I had plenty to say to those who answered the question, I did not have an actual answer to the question. How DO you teach the Gospel to a child with autism? My high functioning son told me he didn't want God. So, clearly I don't have the answer. Then I started thinking about where Jackson is right now.

Recently, he received a Bible and a highlighter from our pastor during a special presentation at our church. He was extremely excited about the Bible, and almost blown away by the fact that I told him it was ok to mark in it with the highlighter. Seriously, it was like I told him he could have ice cream for breakfast. This might be connected to an incident where his little sister colored a whole page in my Bible with a sharpie and I cried. Writing in books (especially a Bible) is not something he's ever been allowed to do. He highlighted the passage the pastor preached from, and he's been reading his Bible, and highlighting, excitedly since. I'm just amazed at how God can take a simple thing like a Bible presentation and a highlighter and answer the prayer of a heavy heart.

Thinking about the forum question and answers, I couldn't help but wonder. Maybe there is something to allowing a child to seek faith themselves. Maybe all my trying to explain things is making it harder for him to understand. Maybe I just need to let him read while I live out my faith and pray I can answer the questions that are sparked by his reading.

The Holy Spirit is not hindered by the same communication barriers that hinder us. God's Word is alive and penetrating, and I know that Jackson's seeking will find that same father, brother and friend that I have worshipped my whole life.

"You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart."
Jeremiah 29:13

One of my favorite autism blogs shared this in a recent post, and I can't help but share it, too.

"Dear restless heart, be still; don’t fret and worry so;
God has a thousand ways His love and help to show;
Just trust, and trust, and trust, until His will you know.

Dear restless heart, be still, for peace is God’s own smile,
His love can every wrong and sorrow reconcile;
Just love, and love, and love, and calmly wait awhile.

Dear restless heart, be brave; don’t moan and sorrow so,
He hath a meaning kind in chilly winds that blow;
Just hope, and hope, and hope, until you braver grow.

Dear restless heart, repose upon His breast this hour,
His grace is strength and life, His love is bloom and flower;
Just rest, and rest, and rest, within His tender power.

Dear restless heart, be still! Don’t struggle to be free;
God’s life is in your life, from Him you may not flee;
Just pray, and pray, and pray, till you have faith to see."

~Edith Willis Linn

I didn't join the forum or comment on the question, but I thought I would post what I've learned here. Sharing the Gospel with an autistic child is the same as with anyone else, you share then trust, love, hope, rest, pray and let God handle it from there. There are no barriers He cannot overcome.

Maybe the next person to Google 'the Gospel and autism' will run across this post and find encouragement. "Dear restless heart, be still."

Update: I let it go. I chose to wait for Jackson to be ready. I tried to answer any questions and let him take it from there. Some were easy. Some were not so easy. But, today he asked how you become a Christian. We talked through it, and he decided to accept Jesus as his savior. His heart didn't explode, but mine just might. :-)

If My Son Tells You I Have Four Fake Teeth and Need Another...

I have always liked taking care of my teeth. I brush at least twice a day. I floss. I even liked the dentist growing up. Not as much as my kids like theirs, but they didn't have gaming rooms and prize machines at my dentist. I just genuinely liked it. Crazy, huh? Well, yes, especially given the fact that I've had nearly every major dental procedure you can have before implants and dentures, well besides braces. I always thought it would be cool to have those. And, glasses, I thought glasses were cool, too. I think I may be revealing just how much of a nerd I am. I liked the dentist, wanted braces and thought glasses were cool. Add the fact that I was homeschooled and all knees and elbows and you get what my teenage dating life was like. :-) But, I digress.

I was 6 when the first 'incident' occurred. My front permanent teeth were just then fully grown in. My brothers and I were playing hide and seek at my grandmother's house. I hid in the bathroom behind the curtain. Awesome, right? I was super smart, too! Anyway, when my brother found me I took off to run, slipped on the rug and hit my face on the tub. I broke my right front tooth in half. I don't remember much else except my grandmother being really worried and that it's hard to eat a cheeseburger with a broken tooth. There was also a little teasing from my little brother. My older brother was too worried to tease me. Mostly worried he was going to be in big trouble, I'm sure. My little brother wasn't quite old enough for that to register. Actually, I don't know that that kind of thing registered to him for a very long time. So, I went to the dentist, and he put a cap on my tooth. All fixed.

About 3 years later, we were at my grandmother's house again, playing tinker toys, and my little brother was trying to pull apart some stuck pieces and either the toy or his elbow hit me in the face. Knocked the cap right off, another trip to the dentist. Good thing I liked him.

About 3 years after that, we were playing tag in our pasture (I grew up on a farm, that gives me even more cool points) and my little brother… Him again, I know. It's like he's as accident prone as I am. You would not believe how many times he went to the emergency room as a kid. Anyway, he rushed through an open chain link gate and slammed it into my face. I was just tall enough for the metal bar at the top to hit me right in the teeth. Another cap lost.

Then the dentist decided to put a metal pin in my tooth to hold the cap in place. I thought it was awesome, especially when he showed me the pin with that little dental mirror. You could see it from the back of my cap. That was the closest to having braces I ever got, and I was proud. Then I kind of forgot about the cap.

Fast forward through the awkward teen years. I swear I didn't grow out of them until I was a mom, and then I entered a whole other kind of awkward. It was the summer before I went to college. Like I've said before, I grew up on a farm. I LOVED animals, and we had ANY animal my heart desired besides cows and pigs. My mom grew up with hogs and hated them, and my dad said cows were too big and might hurt me. Ha! Just keep reading to see how silly that seems now. Well, I raised and showed sheep. Yes, another super cool thing about my childhood. Well, this thing might not have been 'cool' to other kids my age growing up near me, but it really was cool and one of my favorite parts of childhood. Anyway, we had all the equipment you needed and would go around shearing for other small farms or families who had sheep but no shears. One of these farms had the kind of sheep you think about when you picture sheep, like the ones from the Bible with the speckled faces and really long fluffy fleeces. Their ram had horns, the kind that wrapped around his ears. He was really beautiful, and smaller than our sheep. Funny how smaller often means feistier. We had just sheared him and his ewes. My mom went with the owner to clean the shears and get paid while I cleaned up the wool. This owner let us keep it. I had a spinning wheel and loom (yep, more cool points, and I should probably stop saying cool points). This little guy was about half the size of the sheep we had (suffolks), and I underestimated both his anger over being stripped in 'public' AND his ability to cause real harm….

Do you know why they use the word ram in the term battering ram? This is totally unofficial, but I'm gonna give you my explanation. Rams (male sheep) are the protectors of the flock, and even the ones without horns have really thick, strong skulls. When they go to 'ram' something (or someone, in this case) they run as fast as they can in the space they have, lower their heads so that their spine is completely straight and then lift their front feet off the ground so as to shift all momentum to their horns/skull. After they hit their target (instinctively they go for the head or ribs), while it is still down, they back up to do it again and again until their target is no longer moving or it has run away. That's what makes them dangerous. Tenacity and the whole using their body as a battering ram thing.

So, as I was bending to gather the wool, not paying him any attention because I had totally underestimated him, and the next thing I know I am coming to on the ground seeing him all blurry and backing up to hit me again. I scramble to my feet, struggle to the gate and clumsily scale it and fall over onto the other side. Have you ever been to a rodeo? Think bull rider that gets thrown hard or hit by the bull and wobbles to safety. I have no idea how long I was on the other side before my mom came to get me. Guess where this ram hit me. Right in that same spot, my two front teeth.

My right front tooth was wobbly after that, even with the pin, but it didn't really hurt, not like my head anyway. I went on to college and the joys of private Christian education, but I was really sluggish about October. By November, something was really wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Right before I came home for Christmas, my face started hurting. It centered around my two front teeth, but it was the whole right lower part of my face. When I got home, we figured out it was my teeth, and I went to the dentist (a different one by now). The x-rays showed an abscess between the size of a dime and a nickel above my right front tooth. He said something about the infection progressing away from my tooth and back into my face/jaw (why my whole face hurt). Now, it's important to note that up until this point, I had never had a cavity. No fillings. The only things I had ever had done to my teeth were the caps and pin. I was not prepared for a root canal. It was brutal and evil and any other horrible adjective you can think of. Then I had a crownish thing done. I can't really remember what it was called because a crown is what you have put on your back teeth, not the front. Anyway, fixed and forgotten.

About a year later, the same thing happened, but this time it was the incisor beside the tooth with the pin. Two root canals, and all was well, for a while. Then this happened again, one more time, infection in both teeth. Four root canals, three caps, and one pin BEFORE I had ever had a cavity. Add abscessed and impacted wisdom teeth, and I think it's safe to say the tooth fairy cursed me.

So, on with my life until those two teeth started turning yellow. Nothing makes a smile sparkle like yellowing teeth, especially when they are yellowing much faster than the rest of your teeth. After I had Jacob, I felt like I couldn't handle it anymore. So, I had veneers put on. They had to do all four front teeth to make sure they were the same shade and shape. This would also be the same time I had my first cavity. I blame Jacob. Besides the fact that the dentist who did my veneers shaped them for looks rather than trying to make them fit together with my bottom teeth thus causing them to chip to fit, I haven't had any more problems with those teeth. That little booger that grew the first cavity, though. That one is the problem now. The filling came out some time after my pregnancy with Jackson and I didn't realize it and didn't have time to go to the dentist for like 2 years. By the time I went in, it was so bad, I had to have a crown put on.

Fast forward to another giant length of time between dental visits and a few cavities, and that crowned tooth hurts so bad, the dentist and I had a discussion about recurring infections in teeth with root canals and how she recommends implants rather than doing more root canals. Why does the tooth fairy hate me? What did I ever do to her? Well, besides never believing in her. I blame my mom.

So, finally to fill in the end of the title sentence, my kids were concerned about my hurting tooth, and they asked me what the dentist said. I've told them about my front teeth, how you never hide in the bathroom during hide and seek, the ram and all that. Now I'm telling them about maybe getting an implant, a fake tooth I explain, and my super sweet son says, "So, you already have four fake teeth, and you want another? Mom, pretty soon you won't have any real teeth left." I kinda felt like I should have said "that's funny right there" or "you might be a redneck, if" but I just said, "sometimes things happen that are out of our control." At this rate, I'll be in dentures in no time. That's one hot mama, right there. Maybe I should just get it over with and pull them all. Is there a denture fairy who could curse me? I'll make sure to believe in her. :-)