We say we want every person and every family to feel welcome. We create programs, recruit volunteers, make accommodations, and try to remove barriers. But sometimes the experience of the family sitting in our church tells a very different story. I think ADHD is a good example of this. ADHD can affect attention, motivation, organization, impulse control, task initiation, and the ability to follow something through to completion. Yet I have watched churches and volunteers interpret these challenges as a lack of effort, disrespect, or defiance. Sometimes the issue isn't capability.
It's engagement.
When something feels meaningless, repetitive, or disconnected from a clear purpose, it can be incredibly difficult for someone with ADHD to engage. What looks like "not listening" may actually be a struggle to maintain attention. What looks like "not cooperating" may be difficulty getting started. What looks like "being disruptive" may be a need for movement or stimulation. When I understand that, I can respond differently. Instead of asking, "How do I get this person to behave?" I can ask: "How can I help this person engage?" That question changes everything.
I Don't Want to Manage Behavior—I Want to Build Belonging
I can imagine what it feels like for a child to walk into a Sunday classroom and immediately notice frustration on the faces of the adults around them. No one has to say anything. Children are incredibly perceptive. They can sense when adults are disappointed in them. They can sense when they are being watched because everyone is waiting for the next problem. And then, at pick-up, the conversation becomes a list of everything that went wrong.
"He didn't sit still."
"She wouldn't listen."
"He kept interrupting."
"She got up several times."
"He disrupted the group."
After enough Sundays like that, a child can begin to believe a message that we never intended to communicate: "I am the problem." But what if we changed the environment? What if instead of constantly telling a child what not to do, we gave them something meaningful to do? What if we gave them a role that helped the entire group succeed? Instead of saying, "Stay in your seat," what if I said, "I need someone to help me. Will you be our supply manager?" Instead of "Stop getting up," what if I said, "Can you help me deliver these supplies to each table?" Instead of "Don't interrupt," what if I said, "I need a question collector. Your job is to keep track of the questions everyone has during our lesson." Suddenly, the child isn't a problem to manage. They are a person with a purpose. And purpose can change everything.
Purpose Fuels Participation
I have learned that many people with ADHD respond strongly to purpose, interest, challenge, and meaningful engagement. When a task matters, motivation can look completely different. This is why I don't want to assume that someone who struggles to engage in one situation is incapable of engaging. Maybe they just haven't been given a reason to engage. Think about the difference between these two statements:
"Put the chairs away."
and
"We're getting ready for small groups. Can you be our chair captain and make sure everyone has a place to sit?"
The task is essentially the same. But the second one gives the person a purpose. Or consider:
"Pass these papers out."
versus:
"Everyone needs one of these for the activity. Can you make sure every person gets one?"
Again, the task hasn't changed very much. The meaning has. And when I give someone a meaningful role, I am communicating something far more powerful than "I need you to stay busy." I am saying: "We need you."
Accommodations Aren't Lowering Expectations
Sometimes churches worry that providing accommodations means we are lowering expectations. I don't believe that. A visual checklist doesn't lower the expectation. A timer doesn't lower the expectation. A fidget doesn't lower the expectation. Giving someone choices doesn't lower the expectation. Allowing planned movement doesn't lower the expectation. These supports can help someone access the expectation. There is a big difference. I may use a visual checklist to help someone remember the steps of a task. I may use a timer to help someone understand how long an activity will last. I may offer two choices rather than an open-ended direction. I may give reminders instead of constantly correcting. I may allow someone to stand or pace quietly in the back while continuing to listen. These aren't excuses. They are tools. They support executive functioning so that the person can participate more successfully.
Movement Can Have a Purpose
One thing I want churches to rethink is movement. We sometimes treat movement as the enemy of learning. "Sit down." "Stop moving." "Stay in your seat." But what if movement could actually become part of participation? Instead of fighting against the need to move, I can build purposeful movement into the ministry environment. Maybe someone delivers supplies. Maybe they help set up chairs. Maybe they carry the offering basket. Maybe they help another classroom. Maybe they are responsible for checking that each table has what it needs. Maybe they help with technology. The goal isn't to give someone a random task simply to keep them occupied. The goal is meaningful movement connected to the mission. There is a big difference between distracting someone and involving them.
Independence Doesn't Mean Doing Everything Alone
Another word I think we need to redefine in disability ministry is independence. Sometimes we say we want someone to be independent, but what we really mean is:
"Can they do this without me?"
That's not always the right question. I believe independence is about having the most meaningful control and participation possible—with the support they need.
The better question is:
"What support will allow this person to do as much as possible?" Maybe they need a reminder, a visual checklist, someone to help them get started, a choice between two tasks, permission to move, or someone beside them the first few times. Providing support doesn't make someone's contribution less valuable. We are the body of Christ, and we are supposed to need one another.
Give Me a Seat at the Table—and Something to Do
This is where I believe inclusion becomes much more than simply making room. I don't want to create a church where people with ADHD are allowed to attend as long as they don't disrupt anything. I want to create a church where they are genuinely needed. There are so many roles that can become opportunities for meaningful contribution:
Greeter
Offering helper
Technology assistant
Scripture reader
Supply manager
Snack assistant
Door holder
Cleanup leader
Prayer partner
Attendance helper
Worship assistant
Small-group helper
The role isn't nearly as important as the message behind it. You have something to contribute. When I match someone's strengths and interests with a meaningful opportunity, I do more than help them stay engaged. I am helping them discover purpose. I am helping them develop responsibility. I am helping them build relationships. I am giving them an opportunity to serve. And I am communicating something that every person needs to hear: "You belong here."
What If We Changed the Question?
I think our church environments are sometimes built around making sure everyone behaves the same way. But the body of Christ was never meant to be a collection of people who all function the same way. We are different. We have different gifts. We have different strengths. We need one another. So when someone with ADHD struggles to sit still, maybe I don't need to begin with, "How do I make them sit still?" Maybe I need to ask, "What would help them engage?" When someone struggles to complete a task, maybe I don't begin with, "Why won't they finish?" Maybe I ask, "How can I help them get started?" When someone interrupts, maybe I don't immediately think, "They're being disrespectful." Maybe I ask, "How can I give them an appropriate way to contribute their questions and ideas?" And when someone needs to move, maybe I don't automatically see movement as a disruption. Maybe I ask, "How can movement become part of their participation?" Those questions move me from behavior management to ministry.
Everyone Has Something to Bring
I believe an inclusive church is more than a church that removes barriers. It is a church that discovers what people bring. I don't want to simply make room for someone with ADHD. I want to know them. I want to discover their strengths. I want to learn what motivates them. I want to give them meaningful opportunities. I want to help them grow in their relationship with Jesus. And I want to see them use their gifts to serve others. Because the goal isn't simply for someone to make it through Sunday without a problem. The goal is belonging. The goal is discipleship. The goal is contribution. The goal is helping every person discover that they have a place in the body of Christ. Sometimes the difference between "I don't belong here" and "I am needed here" is as simple as giving someone a meaningful job.And sometimes, that job can become the doorway to discovering something much bigger:
I have purpose.
I have gifts.
I have something to give.
I belong to this body.
That's the church I want to help build. A church where we don't simply manage people.
We know them.
We make room for them.
We disciple them.
We need them.
And we give them opportunities to serve.
