What do you think?
Rate this book
My Body Is Not a Prayer Request: Disability Justice in the Church
Midwest Book Review
2023
Silver Book Award (Nonfiction - Religion/Philosophy)
"A convincing case for all Christians to do more to meet access needs and embrace disabilities as part of God's kingdom. . . . Inclusivity-minded Christians will cheer the lessons laid out here."-- Publishers Weekly
"A book the church desperately needs."-- Sojourners
Much of the church has forgotten that we worship a disabled God whose wounds survived resurrection, says Amy Kenny. It is time for the church to start treating disabled people as full members of the body of Christ who have much more to offer than a miraculous cure narrative and to learn from their embodied experiences.
Written by a disabled Christian, this book shows that the church is missing out on the prophetic witness and blessing of disability. Kenny reflects on her experiences inside the church to expose unintentional ableism and cast a new vision for Christian communities to engage disability justice. She shows that until we cultivate church spaces where people with disabilities can fully belong, flourish, and lead, we are not valuing the diverse members of the body of Christ.
Offering a unique blend of personal storytelling, fresh and compelling writing, biblical exegesis, and practical application, this book invites readers to participate in disability justice and create a more inclusive community in church and parachurch spaces. Engaging content such as reflection questions and top-ten lists are included.
"A convincing case for all Christians to do more to meet access needs and embrace disabilities as part of God's kingdom. . . . Inclusivity-minded Christians will cheer the lessons laid out here."-- Publishers Weekly
"A book the church desperately needs."-- Sojourners
Much of the church has forgotten that we worship a disabled God whose wounds survived resurrection, says Amy Kenny. It is time for the church to start treating disabled people as full members of the body of Christ who have much more to offer than a miraculous cure narrative and to learn from their embodied experiences.
Written by a disabled Christian, this book shows that the church is missing out on the prophetic witness and blessing of disability. Kenny reflects on her experiences inside the church to expose unintentional ableism and cast a new vision for Christian communities to engage disability justice. She shows that until we cultivate church spaces where people with disabilities can fully belong, flourish, and lead, we are not valuing the diverse members of the body of Christ.
Offering a unique blend of personal storytelling, fresh and compelling writing, biblical exegesis, and practical application, this book invites readers to participate in disability justice and create a more inclusive community in church and parachurch spaces. Engaging content such as reflection questions and top-ten lists are included.
207 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2022
274 people are currently reading
6193 people want to read
About the author
Amy Kenny
4 books31 followersAmy Kenny is a Lecturer at University of California, Riverside
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 430 reviews
June 17, 2022
3.5 stars
Truly helpful and so relatable a lot of the time. Also unclear and nearly antagonistic at other times.
Someone asked if I’d recommend it. Probably, with some commentary. I’d say it’s an important perspective, and you’ll learn a lot from the stories and history. It’s a good introduction to disability issues and experiences of ableism. But you’ll need to read generously and graciously, and be willing to disagree or feel misunderstood and still learn.
Fundamentally, I think I disagree with some of her disability theory, which I found frustrating because it’s woven through almost every page. In reality, the chapter that talks about theology of disability is fairly nuanced. I wish the rest of the book had kept more of that openness, left more room for questions and uncertainty. I kept wanting to say, “Not everything is ableism, and not every hope of changing disability is ableist, and fixing ableism wouldn’t fix everything.” This made the moralizing and sarcasm directed at abled people throughout frustrating. I think the book overgeneralized and even made straw men sometimes. I do say that cautiously because I believe the author and others have really experienced the mistreatment she writes about—I have, often. But that doesn't mean we can misrepresent people or throw everyone in one bag for a beating.
I think I’m sensitive to this because I’m a disabled person who grew up in church and who’d like to change hearts and minds, and I don’t think scolding people is the way. This sometimes felt like a scolding, not a sharing and persuading. But I also know that my sentiment is privileged. I understand feeling a need for urgency, and frustration, and “isn’t this obvious and why is nobody paying attention?!!”. So I guess for that reason I’m glad for this book, but I also hope lots of other disabled people fill in different voices saying similar things in different ways.
I do want to detail praise, not just critique. If I could talk to the author, I’d say thank you for the deep, dark, emotional labor that I know is telling stories of disability. It means a lot to hear other people wrestling with God and the church and the medical system the ways I do. Thanks for sticking it out with and for a church that is frankly often not hospitable. Thanks for showing us we are the church, whether or not the rest of the body knows it. Thanks for the receipts for your work! I added a lot to my to-be-read list from your gorgeous footnoting and recommended reading list. We love a well read, scholarly, disabled queen.
In case it wasn’t clear amid critique, I'm definitely on the author’s team.
Truly helpful and so relatable a lot of the time. Also unclear and nearly antagonistic at other times.
Someone asked if I’d recommend it. Probably, with some commentary. I’d say it’s an important perspective, and you’ll learn a lot from the stories and history. It’s a good introduction to disability issues and experiences of ableism. But you’ll need to read generously and graciously, and be willing to disagree or feel misunderstood and still learn.
Fundamentally, I think I disagree with some of her disability theory, which I found frustrating because it’s woven through almost every page. In reality, the chapter that talks about theology of disability is fairly nuanced. I wish the rest of the book had kept more of that openness, left more room for questions and uncertainty. I kept wanting to say, “Not everything is ableism, and not every hope of changing disability is ableist, and fixing ableism wouldn’t fix everything.” This made the moralizing and sarcasm directed at abled people throughout frustrating. I think the book overgeneralized and even made straw men sometimes. I do say that cautiously because I believe the author and others have really experienced the mistreatment she writes about—I have, often. But that doesn't mean we can misrepresent people or throw everyone in one bag for a beating.
I think I’m sensitive to this because I’m a disabled person who grew up in church and who’d like to change hearts and minds, and I don’t think scolding people is the way. This sometimes felt like a scolding, not a sharing and persuading. But I also know that my sentiment is privileged. I understand feeling a need for urgency, and frustration, and “isn’t this obvious and why is nobody paying attention?!!”. So I guess for that reason I’m glad for this book, but I also hope lots of other disabled people fill in different voices saying similar things in different ways.
I do want to detail praise, not just critique. If I could talk to the author, I’d say thank you for the deep, dark, emotional labor that I know is telling stories of disability. It means a lot to hear other people wrestling with God and the church and the medical system the ways I do. Thanks for sticking it out with and for a church that is frankly often not hospitable. Thanks for showing us we are the church, whether or not the rest of the body knows it. Thanks for the receipts for your work! I added a lot to my to-be-read list from your gorgeous footnoting and recommended reading list. We love a well read, scholarly, disabled queen.
In case it wasn’t clear amid critique, I'm definitely on the author’s team.
March 13, 2022
It's difficult to describe the experience of reading Amy Kenny's "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request: Disability Justice in the Church," a book that I read both as a reviewer of literary efforts and as a disabled Christian and ordained minister who experienced the book as somewhat of a primal scream that uncompromisingly calls forth disability justice in the church that so often recognizes or dismisses disability and the disabled as less than, suffering, consequences of the fall, and/or all of the above.
Kenny, who obtained her PhD from the University of Sussex, is a a disabled scholar whose research focuses on medical and bodily themes in literature. Expertly weaving together personal testimony and experiences with biblical exegesis, Kenny has crafted a book that called out my own internal and externalized ableism, called me into action, made me laugh, made me shout, made me cry, and with her closing three words, which I won't share here, left me in tears and realizing how so very little I hear these words that are so fundamental to the human experience.
As I read "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request," I began exploring my own life growing up in the church with spina bifida and experiencing a lifetime of well over 50 inpatient surgeries alone along with multiple amputations, paraplegia, a brain injury, and a myriad of other health complications that have often left me doubting my place in the church yet, somehow, never doubting my faith.
I agree with Lisa Sharon Harper, as I usually do, who declared "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" to be holy ground, Kenny's one that writes with both love and rage knowing that we worship a disabled God whose wounds survived resurrection. With remarkable vulnerability, Kenny shares her own experiences inside churches, healthcare, and other settings and the institutionalized ableist beliefs and practices that we, those with disabilities, are simply supposed to set aside either because things don't change or because those who practice them at least mean well.
Meaning well isn't enough.
As one reads Kenny's experiences alongside her tremendous accomplishments both personal and professional, it is impossible to not feel empowered and encouraged by "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request." She inspires, not in the way labeled "inspiration porn" by the late activist Stella Young, but in the way that recognizes the tremendous heart and soul work Kenny has put into living into her own voice even while surrounded by ableism in every day life.
As if her own testimony and biblical exegesis aren't enough, Kenny infuses "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" with tremendous applicability including beautifully constructed points of reflection and pointed top-ten lists at the end of each of the book's chapters.
There is much to love about "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" and there's simply no question it will be among my favorite books of 2022, both because it is incredibly written and because my own life experienced felt baptized by Kenny's words.
"My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" is a must-read for pastors old and new and should be required reading for seminarians everywhere. For anyone who works with or on behalf of individuals with disabilities, "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" should serve as a necessary introduction into disability justice and creating more inclusion in church and parachurch spaces.
My favorite books are those books that change who I am as a human being and as a person of faith. While I have lived as a disabled person of faith for my over 50 years of life, I have long waited for a book such as "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request."
Finally, it has arrived. For that, and for the ministry of Amy Kenny I do give thanks.
Kenny, who obtained her PhD from the University of Sussex, is a a disabled scholar whose research focuses on medical and bodily themes in literature. Expertly weaving together personal testimony and experiences with biblical exegesis, Kenny has crafted a book that called out my own internal and externalized ableism, called me into action, made me laugh, made me shout, made me cry, and with her closing three words, which I won't share here, left me in tears and realizing how so very little I hear these words that are so fundamental to the human experience.
As I read "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request," I began exploring my own life growing up in the church with spina bifida and experiencing a lifetime of well over 50 inpatient surgeries alone along with multiple amputations, paraplegia, a brain injury, and a myriad of other health complications that have often left me doubting my place in the church yet, somehow, never doubting my faith.
I agree with Lisa Sharon Harper, as I usually do, who declared "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" to be holy ground, Kenny's one that writes with both love and rage knowing that we worship a disabled God whose wounds survived resurrection. With remarkable vulnerability, Kenny shares her own experiences inside churches, healthcare, and other settings and the institutionalized ableist beliefs and practices that we, those with disabilities, are simply supposed to set aside either because things don't change or because those who practice them at least mean well.
Meaning well isn't enough.
As one reads Kenny's experiences alongside her tremendous accomplishments both personal and professional, it is impossible to not feel empowered and encouraged by "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request." She inspires, not in the way labeled "inspiration porn" by the late activist Stella Young, but in the way that recognizes the tremendous heart and soul work Kenny has put into living into her own voice even while surrounded by ableism in every day life.
As if her own testimony and biblical exegesis aren't enough, Kenny infuses "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" with tremendous applicability including beautifully constructed points of reflection and pointed top-ten lists at the end of each of the book's chapters.
There is much to love about "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" and there's simply no question it will be among my favorite books of 2022, both because it is incredibly written and because my own life experienced felt baptized by Kenny's words.
"My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" is a must-read for pastors old and new and should be required reading for seminarians everywhere. For anyone who works with or on behalf of individuals with disabilities, "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request" should serve as a necessary introduction into disability justice and creating more inclusion in church and parachurch spaces.
My favorite books are those books that change who I am as a human being and as a person of faith. While I have lived as a disabled person of faith for my over 50 years of life, I have long waited for a book such as "My Body Is Not a Prayer Request."
Finally, it has arrived. For that, and for the ministry of Amy Kenny I do give thanks.
August 2, 2022
Written partly as a memoir, Amy Kenny describes many ways the church has treated her with opposition and antagonism because of her disability; it's enough to drop your mouth wide open in shock and righteous frustration.
Her discourse is urgent, passionate and frank with layers of sarcastic humour. I think it's hard to help others see another point of view with this tone, but I believe it stems out of a lifetime of frustration with people who follow Jesus treating her as less-than instead of imago dei. And while I disagree with some of the theology, hearing her story has encouraged me to be more intentional in providing for the needs of others.
*Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the ARC and the opportunity to post an honest review.
Her discourse is urgent, passionate and frank with layers of sarcastic humour. I think it's hard to help others see another point of view with this tone, but I believe it stems out of a lifetime of frustration with people who follow Jesus treating her as less-than instead of imago dei. And while I disagree with some of the theology, hearing her story has encouraged me to be more intentional in providing for the needs of others.
*Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the ARC and the opportunity to post an honest review.
December 23, 2023
I'll start by saying I REALLY wanted to like this book. I think the topic is profoundly important and not talked about enough, but (like other reviewers have mentioned) the title really does state the most valuable takeaway most simply.
This book is distastefully sarcastic, with a hearty dose of a "holier than thou" attitude throughout. I kept reading, hoping it would get better, and found myself exclaiming "what?!" more than once at the attitude and instructions of the author. However, the most glaring issue I have with this book is the blatant twisting of scripture. Rather than letting scripture form and shape the opinions in this book, scripture is cherry-picked and misconstrued to support specific opinions and narratives. (Example: the author stating that Jesus himself is disabled after the resurrection... yet never explaining quite how? The only assumption I can make is, maybe, the still visible scars on his body? Is a visible scar now considered a disability? I sure don't think so.) I thought this book would be helpful in forming a "disability theology" and I've actually walked away understanding more deeply that it is a BIBLICAL theology we all desperately need.
The final straw was the very last line of the "benecription" where the author tells disabled people, "you are enough." And while that is a palatable and socially accepted sentiment, the point of the gospel is that we're all NOT enough on our own and that is exactly WHY we need Jesus... disabled and non-disabled people alike.
This book is distastefully sarcastic, with a hearty dose of a "holier than thou" attitude throughout. I kept reading, hoping it would get better, and found myself exclaiming "what?!" more than once at the attitude and instructions of the author. However, the most glaring issue I have with this book is the blatant twisting of scripture. Rather than letting scripture form and shape the opinions in this book, scripture is cherry-picked and misconstrued to support specific opinions and narratives. (Example: the author stating that Jesus himself is disabled after the resurrection... yet never explaining quite how? The only assumption I can make is, maybe, the still visible scars on his body? Is a visible scar now considered a disability? I sure don't think so.) I thought this book would be helpful in forming a "disability theology" and I've actually walked away understanding more deeply that it is a BIBLICAL theology we all desperately need.
The final straw was the very last line of the "benecription" where the author tells disabled people, "you are enough." And while that is a palatable and socially accepted sentiment, the point of the gospel is that we're all NOT enough on our own and that is exactly WHY we need Jesus... disabled and non-disabled people alike.
July 21, 2022
This was a REALLY great book about ableism and disability justice both in the Church and in society more broadly as a whole. While focused on calling out the ableism of religious institutions the author also touches on very relatable and relevant topics from the challenges of getting diagnoses, treatment and respectful medical care to everyday microaggressions and ablest language and the ways that how people talk about disabled people can be damaging. I liked that she ended each chapter/essay with little check ins to help guide readers through their own biases and help them learn to be better allies. Great on audio (even though it wasn't narrated by the author) and HIGHLY recommended!!
Favorite quotes:
"Disability as a metaphor and disability slurs are widely used without people so much as noticing. But I notice. It is harmful not just to me or even to an entire community of disabled humans, it is destructive to all of us whether we realize it or not. No wonder people interpret my body as damaged when our language portrays it as such. No wonder people pity me and think I am worth less when I can't walk when our language constantly confirms this idea to us. Our words are the vehicle for ranking our bodies within an artificial hierarchy. One that claims disability is cruel, subhuman and bears less than God's image."
Favorite quotes:
"Disability as a metaphor and disability slurs are widely used without people so much as noticing. But I notice. It is harmful not just to me or even to an entire community of disabled humans, it is destructive to all of us whether we realize it or not. No wonder people interpret my body as damaged when our language portrays it as such. No wonder people pity me and think I am worth less when I can't walk when our language constantly confirms this idea to us. Our words are the vehicle for ranking our bodies within an artificial hierarchy. One that claims disability is cruel, subhuman and bears less than God's image."
February 23, 2023
I feel so conflicted in how to review this book. On the one hand, I loved the authors honesty, her helpful stories, her call for the church to be fully supportive and engaged with disabled peoples. I think this book is important.
I also felt a bit frustrated throughout. The book is very repetitive, with the same stories shared regularly. And as someone with a different type of disability, I felt like I didn’t connect with a lot of her sentiment. For example, I would LOVE to be cured. I would also LOVE to have a fully functional body in Heaven. I believe God does connect with disabled people in a special way, but also that he doesn’t withhold that connection from those who are more able-bodied.
Parts of the book I needed and loved. But the general voice of it was not my style. However, this book is needed for many people in the church and i’m hopeful it sparks change (and hope I am a part of this change as I reflect on my learning from the book).
I also felt a bit frustrated throughout. The book is very repetitive, with the same stories shared regularly. And as someone with a different type of disability, I felt like I didn’t connect with a lot of her sentiment. For example, I would LOVE to be cured. I would also LOVE to have a fully functional body in Heaven. I believe God does connect with disabled people in a special way, but also that he doesn’t withhold that connection from those who are more able-bodied.
Parts of the book I needed and loved. But the general voice of it was not my style. However, this book is needed for many people in the church and i’m hopeful it sparks change (and hope I am a part of this change as I reflect on my learning from the book).
November 23, 2023
As I began my drive home for Thanksgiving, I apparently wanted to deeply convict myself and stir up deep emotions, because I decided to listen to this while driving and throughout my time at home. Closer to a 4.5, Kenny’s writing is extremely challenging, and also deeply encouraging. As both a member of the church, and a sibling to a disabled person, I feel like a snow globe that has been shaken up, and the world will settle differently now that I’ve listened to this book.
Right off the bat with Kenny’s description of being prayed over and approached by complete strangers for physical healing, I was transported to countless times our family have been bystanders while my brother has been approached by the same pure intentioned strangers. So much of this book affirmed the heartbreak I’ve observed as a brother, and also convicted me of the ways I continue to make it challenging for him to feel fully heard and seen. Needless to say, tears were shed time and time again while listening to this one.
There are claims made by Kenny that I know for a fact ruffle the feathers of evangelicals having been steeped in that space growing up, including her claims about New Creation and Disability, and the idea of the “Disabled God”. Not solely her claims, but I could feel within me the voices of my own assumptions rising up against her saying “it’s not supposed to be like that”. But then I was met on every page with Jesus’ pace throughout scripture, which is slow, attentive, and accommodating to all. An invitation in thinking differently about the Kingdom of God.
This work was a great introduction to disability theology - something I had heard about but never been exposed to. It gave language to some of our familial experiences I never knew how to describe, and gave me a fuller vision for Logan’s experience in the world and in the church.
I know Kenny loves the church, because she is honest in this entire book. She loves the church too much to leave it as it is, and I am grateful for her kind, compassionate and prophetic dedication to helping us wash the mud off our eyes in an effort to see our brothers and sisters with more dignity and worth than we tend to grant them.
Highly recommended, and please engage with open hands. It is more blessed to listen than to speak.
Right off the bat with Kenny’s description of being prayed over and approached by complete strangers for physical healing, I was transported to countless times our family have been bystanders while my brother has been approached by the same pure intentioned strangers. So much of this book affirmed the heartbreak I’ve observed as a brother, and also convicted me of the ways I continue to make it challenging for him to feel fully heard and seen. Needless to say, tears were shed time and time again while listening to this one.
There are claims made by Kenny that I know for a fact ruffle the feathers of evangelicals having been steeped in that space growing up, including her claims about New Creation and Disability, and the idea of the “Disabled God”. Not solely her claims, but I could feel within me the voices of my own assumptions rising up against her saying “it’s not supposed to be like that”. But then I was met on every page with Jesus’ pace throughout scripture, which is slow, attentive, and accommodating to all. An invitation in thinking differently about the Kingdom of God.
This work was a great introduction to disability theology - something I had heard about but never been exposed to. It gave language to some of our familial experiences I never knew how to describe, and gave me a fuller vision for Logan’s experience in the world and in the church.
I know Kenny loves the church, because she is honest in this entire book. She loves the church too much to leave it as it is, and I am grateful for her kind, compassionate and prophetic dedication to helping us wash the mud off our eyes in an effort to see our brothers and sisters with more dignity and worth than we tend to grant them.
Highly recommended, and please engage with open hands. It is more blessed to listen than to speak.
December 30, 2023
2023 reads: 396/350
in this book, the author discusses the ableism she faces, both inside and outside church, and how we can take steps to fix this. some of this ableism is unintentional, while other instances are malicious. as a christian, this book made me think about whether my own church is accessible, and how i might be able to help make it even more accessible to our disabled members. some of this book also surprised me, as i had no idea people said such hateful things (such as implying the author’s faith isn’t strong, which is why she uses a wheelchair) to disabled people. i highly recommend this book to any christian.
in this book, the author discusses the ableism she faces, both inside and outside church, and how we can take steps to fix this. some of this ableism is unintentional, while other instances are malicious. as a christian, this book made me think about whether my own church is accessible, and how i might be able to help make it even more accessible to our disabled members. some of this book also surprised me, as i had no idea people said such hateful things (such as implying the author’s faith isn’t strong, which is why she uses a wheelchair) to disabled people. i highly recommend this book to any christian.
April 28, 2022
Amy Kenny writes with passion and urgency, challenging ableist norms in the church and in society at large. She shares personal stories about facing both active discrimination and "mosquito bites" of smaller offenses that build up over time, showing her readers how painful it is for disabled people to constantly feel like they are less valued, overlooked, or viewed as projects. She pushes back against false theologies that assume that disability is the result of sin or a lack of faith, and she also pushes back against ingrained cultural norms that make many people oblivious to how they are causing harm to disabled people or failing to provide appropriate accommodations. In all of this, she emphasizes that disabled people have gifts to share with the church, and that someone doesn't have less of the Holy Spirit just because of a physical or mental ailment.
Kenny writes in a humorous, vivid, and personal way. Her snarky humor sometimes seemed too harsh to me, in the sense that I would rein it back if I were writing something similar, but her passion for the subject is clear, and she writes in an invitational and persuasive way. Although she does not mince words when calling people out, she desires to bring people into her cause instead of shaming them, and she shares positive examples of how people can grow and change. Her personal stories and passionate explanations can help disabled people feel seen and validated, and can help able-bodied people understand the world in a new way.
Because I read an advance reading copy taken from uncorrected proofs, I will not get into any of my specific critiques, since I do not know what will change before publication. However, I have some theological disagreements with the author, and even though I encountered her different perspective with an open mind, I felt that she moved on too quickly from some controversial statements without supporting them with enough logical explanation or Scriptural background for me to fully understand her beliefs, let alone consider them for myself. However, even though I would not endorse everything Kenny says, this is a powerful, stirring, and unique book that deserves a wide readership.
I received a free copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Kenny writes in a humorous, vivid, and personal way. Her snarky humor sometimes seemed too harsh to me, in the sense that I would rein it back if I were writing something similar, but her passion for the subject is clear, and she writes in an invitational and persuasive way. Although she does not mince words when calling people out, she desires to bring people into her cause instead of shaming them, and she shares positive examples of how people can grow and change. Her personal stories and passionate explanations can help disabled people feel seen and validated, and can help able-bodied people understand the world in a new way.
Because I read an advance reading copy taken from uncorrected proofs, I will not get into any of my specific critiques, since I do not know what will change before publication. However, I have some theological disagreements with the author, and even though I encountered her different perspective with an open mind, I felt that she moved on too quickly from some controversial statements without supporting them with enough logical explanation or Scriptural background for me to fully understand her beliefs, let alone consider them for myself. However, even though I would not endorse everything Kenny says, this is a powerful, stirring, and unique book that deserves a wide readership.
I received a free copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
August 8, 2022
What an amazing step along this social journey I've been on. If I wrote down every point I wanted to highlight from this book along with my related reflections, my review would be longer than the book itself.
With a mix of (snarky!) humor and grace, the author lays out so much for a critical perspective shift. For instance, when I see her use "disable" as a verb at times, it becomes clearer: inaccessible spaces disable people who have different bodies, whereas accessible spaces ensure that everyone is able to be included. And to hopefully move beyond inclusion to belonging.
The book addresses practical issues concerning disabled people's civil rights—some issues I knew about and some I didn't. And how the author gradually explains the prophetic witness of disability, demystifying the truth of disabled people as God's image-bearers, is nothing short of beautiful.
Plus, the book includes plenty of actionable steps for readers/the church (meaning, people in the church) to take.
One significant step for me as an author: watching how I use disability language in my writing. Granted, in recent years (and especially as my stories' ranges of characters grow in diversity), I've started to feel weird about seeing words like "lame" commonly used as jokes and negative metaphors. Now I have a much clearer picture of why I've felt weird—and I can work on my language choices to write in ways that engage, rather than harm, a diversity of readers.
A diversity of invaluable image-bearers.
I highly recommend this book on disability justice in the church.
I received an advance reading copy of this book from the publisher for an honest review.
With a mix of (snarky!) humor and grace, the author lays out so much for a critical perspective shift. For instance, when I see her use "disable" as a verb at times, it becomes clearer: inaccessible spaces disable people who have different bodies, whereas accessible spaces ensure that everyone is able to be included. And to hopefully move beyond inclusion to belonging.
The book addresses practical issues concerning disabled people's civil rights—some issues I knew about and some I didn't. And how the author gradually explains the prophetic witness of disability, demystifying the truth of disabled people as God's image-bearers, is nothing short of beautiful.
Plus, the book includes plenty of actionable steps for readers/the church (meaning, people in the church) to take.
One significant step for me as an author: watching how I use disability language in my writing. Granted, in recent years (and especially as my stories' ranges of characters grow in diversity), I've started to feel weird about seeing words like "lame" commonly used as jokes and negative metaphors. Now I have a much clearer picture of why I've felt weird—and I can work on my language choices to write in ways that engage, rather than harm, a diversity of readers.
A diversity of invaluable image-bearers.
I highly recommend this book on disability justice in the church.
I received an advance reading copy of this book from the publisher for an honest review.
May 8, 2023
This wonderful book calls out churches and those who claim to be Christians for really dropping the ball and causing a lot of harm to those in the disabled community. It will feel harsh, but it should, and I'm sure the author was being more gentle than she needed to be. "I bear the image of the Alpha and the Omega. My disabled body is a temple for the Holy Spirit. I have the mind of Christ. There's no caveat to those promises." "Let the slippery-slopers and disability doubters of each generation argue over who gets a seat at the table; we are going to keep setting out plates." This is an important read.
May 3, 2025
As a Christian who’s been physically disabled for a fair chunk of my life, I was really looking forward to this read. I was excited to hear another’s experience of how the church includes others well, and how we have yet to improve. I hoped to find practical strategies to become a better advocate for my brothers and sisters in Christ. While My Body Is Not a Prayer Request had its redemptive moments, it did not deliver upon my hopes. It did, sadly, present some questionable theology that makes it unlikely for me to recommend.
THE GOOD:
There are a handful of undeniable diamonds among the dust in this book. So valuable, even, that this section may be best presented in Dr. Amy Kenny’s own words:
THE NOT-SO-GOOD:
Unfortunately, to get to these thoughtful and thought-provoking points, the reader must dig through a lot of rambling anger and aggression. Much of this book reads as a list of “don’t”s. Dr. Kenny, who uses mobility aids, kicks the book off with a story of a “prayerful perpetrator”: one of many people throughout her life who have stopped to lay hands on her and pray for her physical healing. Without acknowledging that the “prayerful perpetrator” may simply have wished to encourage a sister in Christ, Kenny leaps straight to the conclusion that all prayers of this nature are motivated by discomfort, ableism, and even church-sanctioned eugenics. The church is built on ableism, she claims. Any accommodations made to disabled Christians must certainly be forged from pity or self-aggrandizing charity, not true inclusivity (Why? Unclear. Must not matter, cause everyone inside and out of the church sucks.)
Instead of suggesting ways to help nurture a spirit of inclusivity within the church, Kenny continues to provide anecdotes that demonstrate what not to do. Don’t tell a disabled person she is lazy, but certainly don’t tell her she’s inspiring. Don’t focus on her pain, but don’t minimize it, either. Don’t stare, but don’t look away. Don’t act “uncomfortable” or “awkward” around her. Don’t pray for her. Don’t use metaphors that could be construed in any way as ableist (Kenny even ventures that lines from worship songs and even classic hymns--for example, “was blind, but now I see,” from “Amazing Grace”--should be stricken from hymnals due to their inherent ableism). No one, including medical staff, should call her “brave,” even when she’s undergoing a risky and horrifically painful medical procedure.
On one hand, reading Kenny’s “don’t”s reminded me of my insecure teenage years. I was new to using mobility aids, and convinced the world was out to scorn me. I empathize deeply with the spirit behind her message, and I’ve experienced some of the awkward, patronizing, and occasionally hostile encounters she describes. But it’s important to note that these experiences have always been the exception to the rule. Much of my persecution anxiety stemmed from a negative filter in my own mind—I was quick to interpret well-meaning comments as attacks, when no harm was ever intended.
Kenny’s self-proclaimed “rage” is certainly earned, but I feel this book could have been written with a lot more compassion. If we are to expect gentleness from others, we should be willing to extend that same gentleness to them as we communicate our needs. Unity in the body of Christ can only be achieved when we let God speak through us with grace, and that can only be achieved when we cast off the negative filter and let Him control our perceptions.
THE UGLY:
Most troubling was Kenny’s assertion—citing Daniel 7:9, in which God’s throne is depicted with wheels of fire—that God is disabled. To insist upon this feels like picking out Luke 13:34 (“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings”) and claiming that God is our mother, despite the rest of scripture plainly stating that He is our Father. It’s proof-texting, weaponized into a perilous false doctrine.
Yes, Jesus’ body was broken when He assumed the weight of sin at the cross. Yes, the wounds in his hands, feet, and side remained visible after his resurrection. But we have no grounds to believe this diminishes his power in any capacity. God—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—is all-powerful (Psa. 115:3, Isa. 55:11, Jer. 32:17, Gen. 18:14, pretty much all of Job 38-41, Heb. 1:3, Rev. 19:6…shall I continue?). Disability implies the opposite of ability. Please note: this is not a value statement, nor is it dependent on whether one holds to the medical or social model of disability. One who is disabled is, either by her own body or by a society that is inaccessible to her, rendered unable to complete certain functions. An all-powerful God cannot be hampered by physical or societal constraints. The God of the Bible cannot be disabled.
God, in His omniscience, certainly understands all aspects of the disabled experience. The case can also be made that Jesus willingly experienced a transient state of disability in his final hours before death. But to worship a “disabled God” is to deny an essential attribute of the character of Yahweh. This is false worship.
CONCLUSION:
There is plenty worth considering in My Body is Not a Prayer Request. Dr. Kenny’s call to honor our disabled brothers and sisters in Christ as fellow image-bearers is an important one. The sparse calls-to-action at least point the reader in the right direction of creating a more compassionate and inclusive church. But these gems unfortunately appear as mere garnishes on a generous plate of spite, with a ramekin of blatant heresy on the side. I am disappointed that I cannot recommend this book…now time to go cleanse my palate with some Joni Eareckson Tada.
THE GOOD:
There are a handful of undeniable diamonds among the dust in this book. So valuable, even, that this section may be best presented in Dr. Amy Kenny’s own words:
I [wonder] what people think would change if I were miraculously cured tomorrow and leaped out of my mobility scooter… Would it make me worship with greater fervor? Would it solidify what I believe? Would it give me opportunities that I don’t already have to testify to God’s love? How would it change my spiritual life—pragmatically? I’m not convinced it would in any meaningful way other than highlighting my physical cure in the much larger story about the transformative healing that Jesus brings. I think it would only cause my body to be the center of my praise, instead of prompting me to worship God for who God is. (p. 15)
Church could be a sacred space where “everyone is safe, but no one is comfortable.” Get used to holy disruption. Get used to having your expectations shattered. (p. 34)
We need to stop making excuses for ignoring one-fourth of image-bearers from our churches. Cost, convenience, and ignorance are not reasons to exclude. We are made in the image of a Creator who breathed life into the mantis shrimp and the woolly mammoth, the purple-striped jellyfish and the jumping kangaroo…Surely, we, who are made in the image of such a Creator, can come up with an innovative solution to a narrow bathroom stall or staired entry. Beholding such a canvas of wild and wacky wildlife should fuel our imaginations for how to create accessibility in church spaces. We can be more creative than we have been. (p. 133)
THE NOT-SO-GOOD:
Unfortunately, to get to these thoughtful and thought-provoking points, the reader must dig through a lot of rambling anger and aggression. Much of this book reads as a list of “don’t”s. Dr. Kenny, who uses mobility aids, kicks the book off with a story of a “prayerful perpetrator”: one of many people throughout her life who have stopped to lay hands on her and pray for her physical healing. Without acknowledging that the “prayerful perpetrator” may simply have wished to encourage a sister in Christ, Kenny leaps straight to the conclusion that all prayers of this nature are motivated by discomfort, ableism, and even church-sanctioned eugenics. The church is built on ableism, she claims. Any accommodations made to disabled Christians must certainly be forged from pity or self-aggrandizing charity, not true inclusivity (Why? Unclear. Must not matter, cause everyone inside and out of the church sucks.)
Instead of suggesting ways to help nurture a spirit of inclusivity within the church, Kenny continues to provide anecdotes that demonstrate what not to do. Don’t tell a disabled person she is lazy, but certainly don’t tell her she’s inspiring. Don’t focus on her pain, but don’t minimize it, either. Don’t stare, but don’t look away. Don’t act “uncomfortable” or “awkward” around her. Don’t pray for her. Don’t use metaphors that could be construed in any way as ableist (Kenny even ventures that lines from worship songs and even classic hymns--for example, “was blind, but now I see,” from “Amazing Grace”--should be stricken from hymnals due to their inherent ableism). No one, including medical staff, should call her “brave,” even when she’s undergoing a risky and horrifically painful medical procedure.
On one hand, reading Kenny’s “don’t”s reminded me of my insecure teenage years. I was new to using mobility aids, and convinced the world was out to scorn me. I empathize deeply with the spirit behind her message, and I’ve experienced some of the awkward, patronizing, and occasionally hostile encounters she describes. But it’s important to note that these experiences have always been the exception to the rule. Much of my persecution anxiety stemmed from a negative filter in my own mind—I was quick to interpret well-meaning comments as attacks, when no harm was ever intended.
Kenny’s self-proclaimed “rage” is certainly earned, but I feel this book could have been written with a lot more compassion. If we are to expect gentleness from others, we should be willing to extend that same gentleness to them as we communicate our needs. Unity in the body of Christ can only be achieved when we let God speak through us with grace, and that can only be achieved when we cast off the negative filter and let Him control our perceptions.
THE UGLY:
Most troubling was Kenny’s assertion—citing Daniel 7:9, in which God’s throne is depicted with wheels of fire—that God is disabled. To insist upon this feels like picking out Luke 13:34 (“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings”) and claiming that God is our mother, despite the rest of scripture plainly stating that He is our Father. It’s proof-texting, weaponized into a perilous false doctrine.
Yes, Jesus’ body was broken when He assumed the weight of sin at the cross. Yes, the wounds in his hands, feet, and side remained visible after his resurrection. But we have no grounds to believe this diminishes his power in any capacity. God—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—is all-powerful (Psa. 115:3, Isa. 55:11, Jer. 32:17, Gen. 18:14, pretty much all of Job 38-41, Heb. 1:3, Rev. 19:6…shall I continue?). Disability implies the opposite of ability. Please note: this is not a value statement, nor is it dependent on whether one holds to the medical or social model of disability. One who is disabled is, either by her own body or by a society that is inaccessible to her, rendered unable to complete certain functions. An all-powerful God cannot be hampered by physical or societal constraints. The God of the Bible cannot be disabled.
God, in His omniscience, certainly understands all aspects of the disabled experience. The case can also be made that Jesus willingly experienced a transient state of disability in his final hours before death. But to worship a “disabled God” is to deny an essential attribute of the character of Yahweh. This is false worship.
CONCLUSION:
There is plenty worth considering in My Body is Not a Prayer Request. Dr. Kenny’s call to honor our disabled brothers and sisters in Christ as fellow image-bearers is an important one. The sparse calls-to-action at least point the reader in the right direction of creating a more compassionate and inclusive church. But these gems unfortunately appear as mere garnishes on a generous plate of spite, with a ramekin of blatant heresy on the side. I am disappointed that I cannot recommend this book…now time to go cleanse my palate with some Joni Eareckson Tada.
March 24, 2022
In recent years I've become more aware of the realities faced by others whose life experiences are different from mine. They may be different from me in race and ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, and ability/disability. When your life experience is different from others, it's easy to think that your experience is normal/normative and you judge everyone else on that basis. I've learned to listen and to acknowledge the voices of others who have experienced marginalization and oppression. I've tried to empathize and sympathize as best I can. But of course, feelings aren't enough. They're a bit like thoughts and prayers after a tragedy occurs, one that could have been prevented if we had the will.
In My Body Is Not a Prayer Request we're confronted with the reality experienced by one who is disabled. As the subtitle of Amy Kenny's book reveals, it is a call for "Disability justice in the church." Amy Kenny holds a Ph.D. in literature from the University of Sussex and is a Shakespeare lecturer at the University of California, Riverside. She is, by self-identification a disabled person. She acknowledges that there is a difference of opinion within the disability community as to how to self-identify. Some want to be known as a person with a disability, while others, like Kenny, speak of themselves as being a disabled person. Thus, in this review, I will follow her lead.
Kenny uses her own story to call on the church to take rethink how it understands and relates to disabled people. The title of the book makes it clear that to be disabled does not mean being without abilities and that she's not asking for prayers. She has accepted her reality, with its challenges, as being her normal.
As we read her story we encounter at points frustration with doctors who probe and push and provide little help. She gets frustrated with well-meaning strangers who offer her advice and pathways to a cure. Then there is the church that treats her and disabled people as being in need of a cure. She also expresses her frustration with the church's unwillingness to provide proper access to disabled people like her.
Her story reminds us that all disabilities are not the same. She was diagnosed as an eleven-year-old with "general dysfunction." In other words, the doctors don't know why her leg doesn't have circulation. Through the years she's gone through myriads of tests and treatments, but in the end, she remains disabled. She can walk short distances with a cane, but to truly get around she leans on her wheelchair.
This is not a feel-good book. She pushes the reader's buttons. The book is filled with complaints about doctors, strangers, churches, and more. I wanted to say, but the churches I've served have tried to make a place for the disabled. Truth be told, even the best-equipped churches could do more. Then there's language usage. As a preacher, I've used words like blind and lame to describe spiritual positions. She calls us on misappropriating language in such a way that demeans disabled people.
If we're willing to go along with her on this journey that begins by addressing what she calls "Disability Curatives," which deals with the medical side of things, including suggested remedies by strangers. From there we move to "Disability Discrimination," "Disability Doubters" (are you really disabled?), "Disability Justice," "Disability Blessings." There is a chapter on "Disability Mosquitos." This is a chapter on microaggressions and accusations that she is overly sensitive about language and attempts to accommodate her needs. It is a bit of resistance to change. From there we move to disability lessons (chapter 7). Here she addresses the path to embracing one's disabled body as "inherently worthy as image-bearers." She writes that the "world and the church teach us that we are not enough, that we need to be 'fixed' (read: cured) to be whole, that we have all the makings of a 'before' picture of a prayer makeover" (p. 111). It took time for her to learn she was worthwhile as a person just as she was.
As we move toward the conclusion of the book, she takes up the foundations for a new reality when it comes to inclusion. Part of that has to do with changing our way of looking at disabled people. They are not "less than" others. Thus, when God sees them, God sees them with their disability, for it is part of who they are. So should we. This leads us to the final two chapters: "Disabled God" and "Disabled Church." In the first of these two chapters, she addresses the question of whether one's disabilities are carried into the next life. She points to Jesus as representing the "disabled God." His cross put him in a position of being disabled, and he carries those scars into the next reality. The question isn't whether we experience disability or not in heaven, but assuming that we carry these disabilities into that reality, then would God make accommodations? Thus, she invites us to "imagine the possibilities if we experienced bodily difference not as a defect or loss but as a unique opportunity to experience the diversity of a vast creator God. It just might make the body of Christ healed and whole" (pp. 158-159). In the final chapter of the book, the one titled "Disabled Church" she draws on biblical images of the church where the disabled are included, including Jesus' parable of the banquet in which the servants are sent out to bring into the banquet the poor and the disabled. She also points us to the story of Mephibosheth, the disabled son of Jonathan, whom David included at his table as one of his sons. If this is true of Jesus and David, then why not the church? Why can't it make every effort to include, for to be disabled is not to be less than others. Kenny wants us to know that she accepts herself as being whole and healed even if not cured.
Though one will feel challenged throughout, the nondisabled reader will learn new lessons and hopefully adapt in such a way as to welcome and include the disabled person as well as affirming their full humanity. For those who experience disability, I expect that they will identify with much of what is shared here and would want us to know that. As I read I thought about the ways in which we may all at some point experience a form of disability. I have worn glasses for nearsightedness since the 4th grade. I know it's not the same but as Kenny shared about the value and importance of devices, like wheelchairs, that assist people with disabilities I thought of my glasses, which I wear pretty much all day, except when sleeping and taking a shower. In many ways, I'm blind without my glasses. I can see partially, but not fully. I've made my peace with that reality. Granted it's not the same, but I tried to use my reality as a lens through which to understand her reality. I'm grateful to have taken the journey of understanding.
As I read this as an advanced reader's copy, the page numbers might not be the same as in the final edition.
In My Body Is Not a Prayer Request we're confronted with the reality experienced by one who is disabled. As the subtitle of Amy Kenny's book reveals, it is a call for "Disability justice in the church." Amy Kenny holds a Ph.D. in literature from the University of Sussex and is a Shakespeare lecturer at the University of California, Riverside. She is, by self-identification a disabled person. She acknowledges that there is a difference of opinion within the disability community as to how to self-identify. Some want to be known as a person with a disability, while others, like Kenny, speak of themselves as being a disabled person. Thus, in this review, I will follow her lead.
Kenny uses her own story to call on the church to take rethink how it understands and relates to disabled people. The title of the book makes it clear that to be disabled does not mean being without abilities and that she's not asking for prayers. She has accepted her reality, with its challenges, as being her normal.
As we read her story we encounter at points frustration with doctors who probe and push and provide little help. She gets frustrated with well-meaning strangers who offer her advice and pathways to a cure. Then there is the church that treats her and disabled people as being in need of a cure. She also expresses her frustration with the church's unwillingness to provide proper access to disabled people like her.
Her story reminds us that all disabilities are not the same. She was diagnosed as an eleven-year-old with "general dysfunction." In other words, the doctors don't know why her leg doesn't have circulation. Through the years she's gone through myriads of tests and treatments, but in the end, she remains disabled. She can walk short distances with a cane, but to truly get around she leans on her wheelchair.
This is not a feel-good book. She pushes the reader's buttons. The book is filled with complaints about doctors, strangers, churches, and more. I wanted to say, but the churches I've served have tried to make a place for the disabled. Truth be told, even the best-equipped churches could do more. Then there's language usage. As a preacher, I've used words like blind and lame to describe spiritual positions. She calls us on misappropriating language in such a way that demeans disabled people.
If we're willing to go along with her on this journey that begins by addressing what she calls "Disability Curatives," which deals with the medical side of things, including suggested remedies by strangers. From there we move to "Disability Discrimination," "Disability Doubters" (are you really disabled?), "Disability Justice," "Disability Blessings." There is a chapter on "Disability Mosquitos." This is a chapter on microaggressions and accusations that she is overly sensitive about language and attempts to accommodate her needs. It is a bit of resistance to change. From there we move to disability lessons (chapter 7). Here she addresses the path to embracing one's disabled body as "inherently worthy as image-bearers." She writes that the "world and the church teach us that we are not enough, that we need to be 'fixed' (read: cured) to be whole, that we have all the makings of a 'before' picture of a prayer makeover" (p. 111). It took time for her to learn she was worthwhile as a person just as she was.
As we move toward the conclusion of the book, she takes up the foundations for a new reality when it comes to inclusion. Part of that has to do with changing our way of looking at disabled people. They are not "less than" others. Thus, when God sees them, God sees them with their disability, for it is part of who they are. So should we. This leads us to the final two chapters: "Disabled God" and "Disabled Church." In the first of these two chapters, she addresses the question of whether one's disabilities are carried into the next life. She points to Jesus as representing the "disabled God." His cross put him in a position of being disabled, and he carries those scars into the next reality. The question isn't whether we experience disability or not in heaven, but assuming that we carry these disabilities into that reality, then would God make accommodations? Thus, she invites us to "imagine the possibilities if we experienced bodily difference not as a defect or loss but as a unique opportunity to experience the diversity of a vast creator God. It just might make the body of Christ healed and whole" (pp. 158-159). In the final chapter of the book, the one titled "Disabled Church" she draws on biblical images of the church where the disabled are included, including Jesus' parable of the banquet in which the servants are sent out to bring into the banquet the poor and the disabled. She also points us to the story of Mephibosheth, the disabled son of Jonathan, whom David included at his table as one of his sons. If this is true of Jesus and David, then why not the church? Why can't it make every effort to include, for to be disabled is not to be less than others. Kenny wants us to know that she accepts herself as being whole and healed even if not cured.
Though one will feel challenged throughout, the nondisabled reader will learn new lessons and hopefully adapt in such a way as to welcome and include the disabled person as well as affirming their full humanity. For those who experience disability, I expect that they will identify with much of what is shared here and would want us to know that. As I read I thought about the ways in which we may all at some point experience a form of disability. I have worn glasses for nearsightedness since the 4th grade. I know it's not the same but as Kenny shared about the value and importance of devices, like wheelchairs, that assist people with disabilities I thought of my glasses, which I wear pretty much all day, except when sleeping and taking a shower. In many ways, I'm blind without my glasses. I can see partially, but not fully. I've made my peace with that reality. Granted it's not the same, but I tried to use my reality as a lens through which to understand her reality. I'm grateful to have taken the journey of understanding.
As I read this as an advanced reader's copy, the page numbers might not be the same as in the final edition.
August 29, 2023
A difficult but important read, My Body is Not A Prayer Request is a great introduction to disability theology. Kenny writes in a very personal and popular style, which at times cuts deep into the ableism present in the church. While there were points throughout that I wished the argument was balanced more between scripture and experience, I cannot fault Kenny for this at all.
This book would be a fantastic one for a church small group or staff to go through as they seek to address ableism in their own context and likely, in themselves.
This book would be a fantastic one for a church small group or staff to go through as they seek to address ableism in their own context and likely, in themselves.
January 21, 2024
This book challenged my thinking in the most important kind of ways. Kenny is sharp, witty, and often piercing with her theological and biographical reflections on disability in the church.
December 10, 2024
Required reading. Lots of challenge in her writing; I read the book ready to trust her voice, ready to believe her story and words…and found myself confronting subconscious implicit bias/beliefs I have about disability… particularly as it relates to my theology. Woof.
“Maybe what needs healing isn’t my body, but society.” (153)
“Maybe what needs healing isn’t my body, but society.” (153)
October 27, 2022
Dr. Amy Kenny provides an honest review of the Church's general ableism. She discusses ways in which the Church has hurt her as a Disabled Woman whether that is outright refusal to make the space more accommodating or whether that's telling her that if she would just pray hard enough she would be healed. Dr. Kenny dives deep into the truth that ableism "claims that some bodies are better than others. It values people only for what they produce. It suggests our résumés and our GPAs are more important than our humanity. It withholds belonging until we prove we are worthy of it."
This book empowered me to make sure that the Disabled are at the forefront of our churches, our spaces, our communities. That their voices are present and that we as a society AND church would affirm their gifts, knowledge, bodies, and minds as worthy. What a privilege to read these words by Dr. Kenny.
In the final chapter of her book she leaves this bene"crip"tin for nondisabled readers:
"May your love for God and for your disabled neighbors be deep enough to stretch you into the unknown. May it cast out your fears about getting it wrong, enabling you to trust that when you say the wrong word, miss an opportunity to be inclusive, or forget about disabled friends, you are beloved all the same."
This book empowered me to make sure that the Disabled are at the forefront of our churches, our spaces, our communities. That their voices are present and that we as a society AND church would affirm their gifts, knowledge, bodies, and minds as worthy. What a privilege to read these words by Dr. Kenny.
In the final chapter of her book she leaves this bene"crip"tin for nondisabled readers:
"May your love for God and for your disabled neighbors be deep enough to stretch you into the unknown. May it cast out your fears about getting it wrong, enabling you to trust that when you say the wrong word, miss an opportunity to be inclusive, or forget about disabled friends, you are beloved all the same."
June 14, 2023
This book is an important read and discussion we should be having in the church. I'm not disabled, but have truly appreciated the honesty and humor that Amy writes with as she describes and calls for the church to have a second look at how those with physical limitations in our churches are treated. She has brilliant scriptural examples founded in right interpretations of scripture and made me re-think some of what I know to be true about the Bible. One of my favorite quotations (of many) she has in the book is: "God's desire is for transformative relationship, not productivity or independence...God is after transformation and healing, even when it manifests differently than we expect."
Her brilliant insight into our American obsession with independence and the way God uses disability to remind us of His image stamped on each person is truly transformative and something I will be thinking on for a while. Her exposition of Jacob's wrestling with God is clear and pure and good.
The reason I give it 4 out of 5 stars is that the tone of the book, at times, is far too sarcastic, abrasive, and angry than it needs to be. I caught myself several times stopping and thinking about what she had to say and the probable disappointment behind it. Someone else who also read the book said to me "The thing I took most away from the book is that there needs to be grace and communication on both sides of this discussion" and I think that is true. Grace and the gospel are sometimes missing from Amy's responses to what she sees as injustice.
Overall, I think this book is a really important read. It was difficult to absorb at times because of the tone - but I feel richer for having read it and will be considering how it changes what I do in my own relationships with believers who are my local body of Christ.
Her brilliant insight into our American obsession with independence and the way God uses disability to remind us of His image stamped on each person is truly transformative and something I will be thinking on for a while. Her exposition of Jacob's wrestling with God is clear and pure and good.
The reason I give it 4 out of 5 stars is that the tone of the book, at times, is far too sarcastic, abrasive, and angry than it needs to be. I caught myself several times stopping and thinking about what she had to say and the probable disappointment behind it. Someone else who also read the book said to me "The thing I took most away from the book is that there needs to be grace and communication on both sides of this discussion" and I think that is true. Grace and the gospel are sometimes missing from Amy's responses to what she sees as injustice.
Overall, I think this book is a really important read. It was difficult to absorb at times because of the tone - but I feel richer for having read it and will be considering how it changes what I do in my own relationships with believers who are my local body of Christ.
Read
July 28, 2022I've decided not to rate this one, based on my mixed feelings. But let me say, my mixed feelings are entirely to do with where I am, religiously, spiritually, and not with the author; I'd encourage anyone fully (or mostly) within the Christian faith to read this book and open their mind to the ways the Church has failed the disability community. In terms of addressing disability justice, this book is great, and I learned a lot in the process of reading (like churches are exempt from the ADA, what?!).
However -- if you are basically on your way out of the Christian faith, have already left but harbor a bittersweet nostalgia for the Church, or were never religious to begin with, this book can be a more complicated read. There's a degree of belief required to fully buy into the thesis, particularly in interpretation of Scripture, that fell short for me -- but hey, that is totally on me. I chose to read this book knowing that, which is why I feel like it'd be unfair to rate it lower, just because it didn't jive with how I view a "Creator," or ideas about bearing the image of God.
So, yeah, definitely read this book if you still consider yourself a moderate to severe Christian. There's a lot to appreciate. For folks who aren't particularly church-y anymore, you'll enjoy the sections on disability justice but the more Scripture-y sections may not feel as relevant.
However -- if you are basically on your way out of the Christian faith, have already left but harbor a bittersweet nostalgia for the Church, or were never religious to begin with, this book can be a more complicated read. There's a degree of belief required to fully buy into the thesis, particularly in interpretation of Scripture, that fell short for me -- but hey, that is totally on me. I chose to read this book knowing that, which is why I feel like it'd be unfair to rate it lower, just because it didn't jive with how I view a "Creator," or ideas about bearing the image of God.
So, yeah, definitely read this book if you still consider yourself a moderate to severe Christian. There's a lot to appreciate. For folks who aren't particularly church-y anymore, you'll enjoy the sections on disability justice but the more Scripture-y sections may not feel as relevant.
Read
November 11, 2022I struggle with this book as a pentecostal Christian who lives with cerebral palsy. I absolutely agree with virtually all the pastoral and systemic advice Kenny gives. I am much less convinced of her exegesis, and I think she fails to grapple seriously with the Gospel narratives which claim Jesus literally healed the disabled. If Jesus was the incarnate God and consistently healed those he met, I can absolutely believe that Christians (and the Church-as-institutions) are ableist, but Jesus is not. I also struggle because I don't think disability and impairment belong to God's image and likeness, but the Spirit "getting in through the cracks" of human weakness can sure show us powerful things about the character of God!
I believe in disability justice. I believe that ensuring accessibility and full welcome is a key form of healing ministry. I think the challenge facing today's church is to still seek to heal people holistically (including physically) while working toward full accessibility and maximum welcome. Forgetting one or the other will leave the churches impoverished.
I believe in disability justice. I believe that ensuring accessibility and full welcome is a key form of healing ministry. I think the challenge facing today's church is to still seek to heal people holistically (including physically) while working toward full accessibility and maximum welcome. Forgetting one or the other will leave the churches impoverished.
July 2, 2022
Kenny, with gentle faith and conviction, makes the case for a disability-inclusive church, not stemming from a place of pity or saviorism, but from a commitment to human rights and bringing the Kingdom to earth. I highlighted and dog-eared this book to the high heavens. Kenny’s “argument” (not that she should have to argue for her worth) is well-supported with thoughtful theology and thorough calls to action. She recounts her own disability journey; enumerates the many ways she has been dismissed, sidelined, dehumanized, and de-prioritized; expounds on the ways her disability gives her a more robust understanding of God; and offers practical advice to anyone willing to heed her calls. Even in a moment when I am not a part of a specific church, Kenny’s book will dramatically impact the way I move through the world and engage with intersectional advocacy.
July 6, 2022
It's rare to come across a book that I would so wholeheartedly recommend to all churchgoers, but Kenny has written such a book. Accessible, witty, and straight to the point, Kenny autobiographically describes her experience as a disabled woman in the church, both as someone committed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but also as someone who isn't afraid to tell the church where we need to be better. On the surface, Kenny's book is about ableism in the church, and how churchgoers can confront our own ableist tendencies in our lives, our theology, and our interactions with all people. However, at a deeper level, Kenny shows how disability justice is not just about providing access for disabled people, but the ways in which disability justice can create better communities of being for all sorts of people. Take and read, my friends!
February 7, 2023
This was definitely a thought-provoking read, and one I want to learn from. Unfortunately, the tone felt very reactionary/sarcastic and hard to interact with—more of a vent of her frustration than a call to action and/or discourse. When I saw the title, I expected a more robust theology of disability and the church, and left wanting. She did touch on theology a bit, but seemed a bit lacking and somewhat inconsistent both with herself and with scripture.
My big takeaway is a desire to learn and be more aware of the way I walk with those who are suffering, of the language I use regarding disability and how it may affect those who are disabled.
Would I recommend? Probably, with a few disclaimers. :)
My big takeaway is a desire to learn and be more aware of the way I walk with those who are suffering, of the language I use regarding disability and how it may affect those who are disabled.
Would I recommend? Probably, with a few disclaimers. :)
June 24, 2022
This book touched my soul and gave me a voice with under two hundred pages. It was impactful with my personal struggles while challenging me on a corporate, church level. I don’t feel adequate to express how much I loved this discussion of disability in the church. I could relate the judgment and doubts that the people in the building express. I have struggled with that for so long that it is easy to believe but I now view my disabled body in a different light. This book has helped with that change in perspective. I think that this is a book that the church needs to read in order to fully embrace the disabled.
I received an arc via Netgalley in exchange for a honest review.
I received an arc via Netgalley in exchange for a honest review.
May 13, 2022
This book is amazing! I ended up reading it through in one sitting as I kept finding my own experiences and thoughts within the pages. While disabled people make up the largest minority group as we are all spread out and not geographically located together sometimes you can wonder if you’re the only one who experiences ableism in a certain way, reading this it appears that is far from the case.
Amy Kenny writes with a strong and powerful yet clear voice about her experiences as a disabled person within both the Church and society at large. She points out how often narratives create disability as something that is entirely negative and that inclusion can easily be written off as unnecessary due to a variety of reasons. At no point though does Kenny come across as moaning about the situation instead she sets out how the current situation is not the best society can be and why before making suggestions on how to make positive changes. In many ways the book is a workbook that Churches could easily go through to reflect on their own communities and inclusivity. Kenny includes sections on both physical inclusion but also thinking about what language we use too. What stood out for me was her interpretations of different aspects of theology and how curing someone physically and healing can be entirely different things.
I did feel that the primary target of this book is probably for able bodied people and is definitely a very good starting tool to get people thinking (and hopefully acting). That being said one of the end questions Kenny asks of the reader is, ‘How are you different for reading this book?’ and for me it was very much a case of feeling of belonging and appreciation that other people out there facing similar barriers to me are actively making changes and I suspect other disabled people will feel similar.
Every Church needs a copy of this book!
Also I am going to have to steal the analogy of ‘Ableism malaria’ (if curious as to what that is definitely read this book!)
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC in exchange for an honest review. Thank you too to Amy Kenny for writing this and being the voice of many people.
Amy Kenny writes with a strong and powerful yet clear voice about her experiences as a disabled person within both the Church and society at large. She points out how often narratives create disability as something that is entirely negative and that inclusion can easily be written off as unnecessary due to a variety of reasons. At no point though does Kenny come across as moaning about the situation instead she sets out how the current situation is not the best society can be and why before making suggestions on how to make positive changes. In many ways the book is a workbook that Churches could easily go through to reflect on their own communities and inclusivity. Kenny includes sections on both physical inclusion but also thinking about what language we use too. What stood out for me was her interpretations of different aspects of theology and how curing someone physically and healing can be entirely different things.
I did feel that the primary target of this book is probably for able bodied people and is definitely a very good starting tool to get people thinking (and hopefully acting). That being said one of the end questions Kenny asks of the reader is, ‘How are you different for reading this book?’ and for me it was very much a case of feeling of belonging and appreciation that other people out there facing similar barriers to me are actively making changes and I suspect other disabled people will feel similar.
Every Church needs a copy of this book!
Also I am going to have to steal the analogy of ‘Ableism malaria’ (if curious as to what that is definitely read this book!)
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC in exchange for an honest review. Thank you too to Amy Kenny for writing this and being the voice of many people.
December 29, 2023
I picked up this book because the title was intriguing and my job affords me the pleasure of working with kids who have disabilities. Kenny offers an important perspective, albeit not always an easy one to hear. I am challenged to be more proactive in my interactions with people with disabilities and I recognize that the church has not done a great job at engaging individuals who are disabled.
July 25, 2022
This accessible, bracingly frank, pun-filled book is poised to put disability theology on the minds of more church-goers, and thus could help us rediscover an ecclesial ethos worth the assembly.
February 11, 2023
Important and deeply convicting
December 10, 2023
As someone disabled who is non-religious, this book did an amazing job of helping me understand what my religious disabled friends are going through. This book is filled with so many amazing quotes that I want to share.
November 13, 2024
I wanted to love this book and honestly I found it a real mix, but a lot frustrated me. Before I start I have to say - I myself am not disabled. I am a parent to a profoundly physically disabled daughter and a teacher to disabled children but I do not personally know what it is to walk it.
There were many things I appreciated in this book:
- Amy shares her own story with vulnerability and humour. I really appreciated the way she opened up her own experience for us to learn from. Whilst knowing about "spoons" already she really brought that alive in a helpful way.
- Amy really made me think. I am still reflecting and will continue to do so for some time I'm sure, but she challenged a lot of assumptions which I will certainly reflect on further - even if I don't end up agreeing with them fully.
- I enjoyed her suggestions at the end of each chapter - the ideas were fresh and interesting and very thought-provoking.
-
That said there were things I struggled with:
- From stories shared I can absolutely appreciate how offensive and upsetting it must be to have people press prayer on you, assuming that you are in some way deficient because of being physically disabled. I had hoped there might be some kind of discussion about whether this is ever OK and if so how it could be handled with grace, dignity and sensitivity. When Jesus gives the disciples the directive to "heal the sick..." in Matthew 10 it wouldn't be unreasonable to consider that someone who regularly encountered pain and physical suffering because of a medical condition might appreciate prayer. Whilst I absolutely believe it's always appropriate to ask how and what people would like prayer for, assuming nothing, it seemed there was no room even afforded to that. People who offered prayer were cast as offensive and brash, which feels if nothing else quite an assumption in itself. How do Christians walk the line of being compassionate and seeking to do as Jesus did (who, the gospels will attest, did indeed heal those who were disabled) without being cast as ableist and insensitive? And what about those with disabilities who request prayer as they would like Jesus to heal them or in some way change their situation? Again, that was not covered but blanket assumptions were made.
- Honestly, I really struggled with the whole "disabled God" stuff. I didn't feel like this was very well backed up theologically and it was discussed at length. It could be that the throne in Ezekiel was a wheelchair because God is in some way disabled but that seems a big jump to make from one scripture. Also, talking about Jesus as disabled felt like a bit of a jump too - certainly on the cross he endured indescribable injuries, but after then, when He appears in his resurrected body there is no suggestion that He remains disabled. Given at other times Amy resented people claiming to be disabled when they weren't, this felt a little inconsistent... These things could be theologically correct - I just personally felt like a lot was made of them without much theology to back them up. I also found that I felt similarly about her reading of the story of Jesus healing the blind man, as well as drawing some (possibly correct but just as possibly incorrect) conclusions about some other bible characters and their disabilities - e.g. Paul.
- It was a really helpful prod to think about ableist language in scriptures but I also did find myself wondering whether it is always a slur to use language metaphorically. I'm not thinking so much of the casual "that's so lame" but more whether it is really wrong to sing "I once was blind but now I see" meaning it only in the metaphorical sense.
- The book didn't offer this, so this is more about what I'd have liked to read, but I found it hard that no space was held for people to struggle with their disability or cry out to God to change it. I would have loved some discussion on how to navigate that. And on how to navigate unanswered prayer. How to wrestle with stories of Jesus healing and to do so in a way that keeps your heart soft towards Jesus maybe doing that but also living with life as it is.
- Probably for good reason, I found this a very angry book. I read it as someone wanting to learn and also as a parent wanting to help my child navigate this, but struggled with the fairly unrelentingly ranty tone. I did find myself thinking "how would I ever get anything right?" a good few times...
Over all I'm pleased to have read this and have learned a lot and been provoked a lot, but did find a lot of it quite frustrating.
There were many things I appreciated in this book:
- Amy shares her own story with vulnerability and humour. I really appreciated the way she opened up her own experience for us to learn from. Whilst knowing about "spoons" already she really brought that alive in a helpful way.
- Amy really made me think. I am still reflecting and will continue to do so for some time I'm sure, but she challenged a lot of assumptions which I will certainly reflect on further - even if I don't end up agreeing with them fully.
- I enjoyed her suggestions at the end of each chapter - the ideas were fresh and interesting and very thought-provoking.
-
That said there were things I struggled with:
- From stories shared I can absolutely appreciate how offensive and upsetting it must be to have people press prayer on you, assuming that you are in some way deficient because of being physically disabled. I had hoped there might be some kind of discussion about whether this is ever OK and if so how it could be handled with grace, dignity and sensitivity. When Jesus gives the disciples the directive to "heal the sick..." in Matthew 10 it wouldn't be unreasonable to consider that someone who regularly encountered pain and physical suffering because of a medical condition might appreciate prayer. Whilst I absolutely believe it's always appropriate to ask how and what people would like prayer for, assuming nothing, it seemed there was no room even afforded to that. People who offered prayer were cast as offensive and brash, which feels if nothing else quite an assumption in itself. How do Christians walk the line of being compassionate and seeking to do as Jesus did (who, the gospels will attest, did indeed heal those who were disabled) without being cast as ableist and insensitive? And what about those with disabilities who request prayer as they would like Jesus to heal them or in some way change their situation? Again, that was not covered but blanket assumptions were made.
- Honestly, I really struggled with the whole "disabled God" stuff. I didn't feel like this was very well backed up theologically and it was discussed at length. It could be that the throne in Ezekiel was a wheelchair because God is in some way disabled but that seems a big jump to make from one scripture. Also, talking about Jesus as disabled felt like a bit of a jump too - certainly on the cross he endured indescribable injuries, but after then, when He appears in his resurrected body there is no suggestion that He remains disabled. Given at other times Amy resented people claiming to be disabled when they weren't, this felt a little inconsistent... These things could be theologically correct - I just personally felt like a lot was made of them without much theology to back them up. I also found that I felt similarly about her reading of the story of Jesus healing the blind man, as well as drawing some (possibly correct but just as possibly incorrect) conclusions about some other bible characters and their disabilities - e.g. Paul.
- It was a really helpful prod to think about ableist language in scriptures but I also did find myself wondering whether it is always a slur to use language metaphorically. I'm not thinking so much of the casual "that's so lame" but more whether it is really wrong to sing "I once was blind but now I see" meaning it only in the metaphorical sense.
- The book didn't offer this, so this is more about what I'd have liked to read, but I found it hard that no space was held for people to struggle with their disability or cry out to God to change it. I would have loved some discussion on how to navigate that. And on how to navigate unanswered prayer. How to wrestle with stories of Jesus healing and to do so in a way that keeps your heart soft towards Jesus maybe doing that but also living with life as it is.
- Probably for good reason, I found this a very angry book. I read it as someone wanting to learn and also as a parent wanting to help my child navigate this, but struggled with the fairly unrelentingly ranty tone. I did find myself thinking "how would I ever get anything right?" a good few times...
Over all I'm pleased to have read this and have learned a lot and been provoked a lot, but did find a lot of it quite frustrating.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 430 reviews