Comedian Steven Wright, known for his stand-up and dead-pan and eccentric one-liners, once said, “I’m a peripheral clairvoyant—I see into the future but just way off to the side.” His odd and comical way of looking at life suggests that he lives on the margins of the rest of culture, noticing what others generally look right past. I too tend to see things others would call peripheral or off to the side. And, as a pastor and leader in a profession that stands on centuries of consistent thought and practices, I’ve often found myself alone, noticing what others don’t and calling attention to it. I think I may be a peripheral prophet.
As I write about my experiences in 2023, words such as neurodiversity, neurotypical, or autism spectrum are phrases I have become more aware of in recent years. Neurodiversity describes different types of cognitive functioning that are not considered “typical.” Though I am cautious about defining the parameters of this science or using labels—which can change over time—I have had a lot of personal experience with this unique way of thinking. And in much of my life, I have often felt like I live on the periphery.
On the Outside, Looking In
I was diagnosed late in life with ADHD and features of autism. My genetics, experiences, interpersonal relationships, and battle with depression throughout my life have led me to investigate how my behavioral and communication differences have shaped my life. With the help of professional clinicians, I have begun to understand why I have felt like I am standing at the edge of the room. Though I may look calm on the outside, my inner world is anything but peaceful. My logical brain is mentally preparing for events or conversations days before they happen, so I am not caught off guard. I also experience social anxiety when events are new or unpredictable, and I have lived “in a perpetual state of micro mis-attunements from the world.”¹I once said that if I wrote a book about my life, it would probably be called, On the Outside, Looking In.
Because I process feelings and experiences differently than others, I have often felt alone. Though feelings are not easy for me to identify, I have recognized anxious, shameful, frustrated, and disillusioned feelings regularly. For example, the things I notice don’t seem important to others or at least no one was talking about them. As I understand my differences, I have learned to be kinder to myself and live life with more curiosity, believing I was supposed to notice things others didn’t. I also don’t have to wait to be recognized. I can speak up and know that my “differences” add an essential element to the discussion.
Diverse Characteristics
Uncovering this diagnosis might feel like a “big reveal” for those who know me well. Some have challenged my self-assessment with assurances that I don’t look or act like others they know who are on the autism spectrum. I understand I might seem less dramatically impacted by some of the more obvious external features of neurodivergence. But as autistic professor Dr. Stephen Shore once said, “If you met a person with autism, you’ve met a person with autism.”² The diverse characteristics and diagnosis of this type of brain-wiring are nuanced, and they differ from person to person. Although those who fall on the autism spectrum are neurodivergent, not all neurodivergent individuals are on the autism scale. The diversity of this kind of brain wiring can include many other conditions where individuals think, behave, and learn differently, such as ADHD, dyslexia, and sensory processing disorders.
My discovery has been one of the most freeing revelations of my life. “It explains so much,” my wife said, when I described to her the way my brain works. When I seem disengaged or miss her nonverbal cues, it’s not because I don’t care. My mind is working overtime to process all the stimuli coming at me in rapid succession. And my tendency to approach problems with logic rather than understanding and empathy can come across as cold and uncaring at times. This revelation of how my brain works has helped those who love me respond with compassion when I might seem aloof or preoccupied with my thoughts.
Faith Through a Neurodivergent Lens
The advantage of all of this “work”—to better understand my internal landscape and how I relate to others—allows me to celebrate the fact that someone who lives in the margins can communicate effectively, lead others well, and thrive in the majority world. I’m a pastor—and it turns out—a peripheral prophet too. I see what God claims about himself and what he wants from his followers, and because of where I am standing, I have sometimes noticed things others haven’t.
I’ve also heard that those who are wired this way often wrestle with faith. However, in my attempt to find the statistics to support this idea, I realize the opposite is true. When faith is defined by needing to feel God, or even worse, measured by a display of emotions, then yes, people with neurodivergent minds will likely struggle with this kind of faith. But this doesn’t mean a relationship with God is impossible; it will simply look different for those who don’t engage with their emotions in the same way or who see the world differently. The gifts and “superpowers” that come from being neurodivergent can add an important—though admittedly unconventional—element to our theological discussions about how we are to live as God’s people in a changing culture.
Thinking Faith, Then Feeling Faith
We can all agree that faith is much more than emotions—it encompasses our minds, hearts, and feelings. So, when interacting with those of us who are both neurodivergent and followers of Christ, don’t ask us how we feel about God; ask us what we think about God, and then put your seatbelt on! We often don’t know how we feel until we can express what we think. I discover my most authentic emotions in this intellectual arena, but my head must enter this sacred space first before my heart arrives.
Furthermore, please know that while our feelings are unfamiliar, our faith is deep. Ask us first what we are thinking and be ready to listen with curiosity. Know that we may not always read the room, but, as awkward as it may sound at first, we have something important to add to the conversation. Also, embrace the quirky ways we describe and talk about God. Many of us spend a good deal of time thinking, talking, arguing, and listening to God. Our unique gifting allows us to see things that may affect the future of faith for many in our culture. But most likely, what we see will be a little off to the side!
References
¹Megan Anna Neff, Autistic Therapy: 8 Things to Consider (March 1, 2023) Retrieved from: https://neurodivergentinsights.com/blog/reflections-on-my-personal-experience-in-therapy-amp-thoughts-on-becoming-a-neuro-inclusive-therapist
²Burnett, I want to love God with all my mind, but as an autistic Christian my brain works differently to yours. (July 28, 2022), Premiere Christianity. Retrieved from: https://www.premierchristianity.com/features/i-want-to-love-god-with-all-my-mind-but-as-an-autistic-christian-my-brain-works-differently-to-yours/13512.article