Blindness is Not Brokenness: Practicing Inclusive Worship

 

Amazing grace (how sweet the sound)
that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
was blind, but now I see.

At a worship event for disability ministry leaders, the worship leader introduced our next song, “Amazing Grace.” As he began speaking, I felt a moment of hope, thinking he would voice my complex emotions about this hymn.

As someone born with a visual impairment, I have always had mixed feelings about this song. Although it is deeply loved by many, the line “I once was blind, but now I see” resonates differently for me. This line has made me feel as if healing was expected for me and that my continued blindness reflects a lack of grace rather than a different lived experience.

As the worship leader spoke, I found myself wondering whether there might be an acknowledgment that phrases like this can be received differently by those who are actually blind or visually impaired. But rather than providing space for different experiences, he leaned even harder into the metaphor of blindness. He said we could all proudly sing those words together because “we are all spiritually blind and Christ has given us sight.”

I understood what he was trying to say. At the same time, I knew he had no idea how others would receive his comments. However, I still felt that familiar frustration and disappointment I often experience with aspects of faith communities and traditions. 

This is not because I don’t believe in God’s grace, but because the metaphor of blindness as brokenness is so commonly used in church spaces that no one even questions what this metaphor means for people with disabilities. Moments like this remind me that the church often speaks about disability without ever considering the experiences and feelings of disabled individuals who may be in the room.

Even when no harm is intended, the repeated use of these metaphors sends a clear message: Blindness represents what is wrong with the world, and sight represents what is right.

I have heard many sermons about spiritual blindness and the need to turn away from it. Each time, I am reminded that my own body and lived experiences are being used as symbols of brokenness. 

While these messages are meant to inspire faith, they can leave disabled people feeling as though their experiences mark them as spiritually deficient or perpetually lacking compared to able-bodied believers. This is not exclusive to language surrounding blindness. Church language often relies on other disability-related metaphors that unintentionally marginalize others. 

We talk about being “deaf” to God’s voice to describe disobedience. We refer to ideas as “lame” or “stumbling” to suggest weakness or failure. We describe mental illness as a lack of faith that can easily be prayed away.

These metaphors may seem harmless, especially when they are deeply embedded in church tradition. But for people who are physically disabled, neurodivergent or living with mental illness, they can reinforce the idea that disability itself is a problem to be solved rather than a part of diversity within the kingdom of God.

When language like this goes unexamined, it can suggest disabled people’s experiences are secondary to the metaphor being made. Even in spaces dedicated to disability ministry, disabled people can feel pitied rather than genuinely seen and valued for the gifts they bring to the church.

When the church relies on language that equates disability with brokenness, it unintentionally limits who is fully understood as bearing God’s image. And when that happens, the church misses out on the wisdom, faith, and leadership of disabled believers who are already part of congregations.

Here are a few steps churches can take to move toward more thoughtful and inclusive ministry.

Consider adjusting song lyrics.

We don’t need to discard classic hymns, but we can be attentive to the language we use. Pastors and worship leaders can reflect on how certain metaphors may affect disabled congregants. 

Sometimes the solution is simple: Adjust the lyrics when appropriate. For example, instead of “I was blind, but now I see,” you can say “I was bound, but now I’m free.”  This still holds the same theological conviction while allowing disabled individuals not to feel excluded.

Listen to the experiences of disabled people.

Invite disabled congregants into the conversation. Ask about their experiences, insights, and the ways the church’s language, practices or spaces have affected them. 

This can take many forms, but it is a simple first step in caring for those within your congregation and will help them feel seen. Their voices are essential.

At the same time, the responsibility for accessibility should not fall only on disabled individuals. Rather, congregations must listen to concerns and take proactive steps to address barriers and foster inclusive environments.

Practice grace with yourself and others.

Change takes time. No one is expected to get everything right immediately. 

When missteps inevitably happen, acknowledge them, apologize when needed, and move forward. Holding on to shame or resentment only hinders growth. A culture of grace helps everyone stay engaged in the work of becoming more inclusive.

Moments like these invite the church to pause and reflect on how deeply embedded language and traditions shape who feels they fully belong and who does not. When traditions are held too tightly, they can silence voices beyond established norms. Loosening our grip allows other experiences to speak into the shared life of worship.

Disability is not a metaphor for what is broken, but a lived reality that belongs in all aspects of the church’s life. Meaningful change requires more than good intentions. It calls for listening to disabled voices, examining our words and practices, and being willing to reimagine even longstanding traditions.