July 26, 2025 marks the thirty-fifth anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), legislation intended to ensure equal access to public life for people of all abilities.
While the ADA was a major milestone, the fight for disability inclusion goes on. And while laws provide important protections, true inclusion boils down to how one person treats another.
As I’ve written previously, God cares about how we treat people. regardless of their abilities. A community that values and supports all of its members glorifies God, because He loves and values every one of us.
Disability inclusion is a major theme in my debut memoir, Just Megan: A Story of Grace and Resilience in the Face of the Unknown. As someone with multiple disabilities, I’ve experienced firsthand the struggle for inclusion—and the beauty and power of relationships that overcome that struggle.
Here are eight insights, drawn from my story, to help you promote inclusion in your own sphere of influence.
The great news? It’s simpler (and more fun) than you might think.
Expect everyone to have gifts.
True friendship sees and meets needs. But it doesn’t dwell on them. And it knows that reaching out across differences and through insecurity and past preconceived ideas will more likely than not change lives—both yours and the other person’s—and uncover priceless treasure for you both. (91)
When addressing inclusion, people sometimes get so focused on offering help that they fail to recognize what the disabled person has to offer in return.
In reality, everyone has something to give. Their gifts might be as sophisticated as a musical talent or as simple as a cheerful spirit.
So approach everyone with the assumption that they have gifts. Affirm and encourage the good you see in them. If you’re in a position to do so, offer them opportunities to use their gifts to bless others.
Acknowledging others’ gifts shows we value them—and reminds them that God values them, too.
Ask people what they need.
But when things went right, which happened more often than not, if I researched task conditions and requirements first, I received the gift of giving. The gift of working hard. The gift of participating in something meaningful alongside my peers. … The gift of exploring what I enjoyed among others who enjoyed it too and of broadening my horizons. (116)
When it comes to assisting a person with disabilities, there tend to be two well-meaning extremes: ignoring the elephant in the room, or jumping to help at every hint of struggle.
Thankfully, there’s a third option that’s easier and more effective for everyone: Simply ask people what they need, in a supportive spirit.
Use questions like, “What can I do to make things easier for you?” “How can I best communicate with you?” (if they have a hearing or communication problem) “What helps you ___?” And if someone seems to be struggling, “Do you need help?”
This approach shows the person you see their struggle and care about them, while respecting their autonomy and avoiding assumptions. It gives the person the opening to explain their needs with minimal awkwardness. And it clarifies expectations, leaving you both to focus on the task or enjoy the activity at hand.
Focus on relationships.
[My and my sister’s] relationship has helped me get through the twists and turns of life. Not just life with disability but life as a human being that happens to include disability. (63)
With all the assistive technology, medical equipment, assistance programs, and whatnot available these days, you’d think any disability could be fully accommodated with the right number of phone calls and the right amount of insurance.
But the greatest assets in life with disability, as in any life, aren’t technology or money or laws or organizations (although these are extremely helpful and even life-saving). Rather, they’re relationships.
Even when relationships can’t solve practical problems, they offer the comfort, encouragement, support, and safety that get people through hardship. When other resources are plentiful, relationships heighten the joy. When other resources fail, our people catch and carry us.
So if you want to really show love to someone with disabilities, offer them friendship. Greet them. Get to know each other. Do things together.
Show them they’re not alone.
Give people a chance.
Yet this disappointment lacked much of the defeat I felt in some other failures. Because, in this case, I came to the conclusion myself. … When you fail in your own efforts, at least you can own your failure. You learn about yourself and your world.
You learn that you can fail. But you also learn you can survive. (121–122)
Too often, when someone with disabilities wants to try something difficult, well-meaning people discourage them. Maybe the discouragers don’t see the point. Maybe they genuinely want to save the person trouble or disappointment.
But such responses deprive people of the opportunity to learn and grow. They tether a person’s decisions to the judgments of others. And they stand on assumptions—assumptions that could prove happily wrong if tested.
So, instead of issuing vetoes, voice specific concerns, ask practical questions, and look for realistic solutions. Talk things through in a way that encourages everyone to think. And be open to giving people a chance.
They might surprise you.
Offer acceptance first.
[My friends] saw me as a fellow human being with some extra hurdles to jump in order to reach our shared goals. And they did what they could to help me over—or adjusted their pace so we could run together. (93)
We want people with disabilities to feel supported and to feel good about themselves. And we should.
But sometimes, in our efforts to uplift, we overlook their need for plain, simple acceptance.
One of the paradoxical things about disability is that the very accommodations and equipment that help us live a “normal” life can heighten our sense of otherness. The extra attention meant to make us feel good can make us feel more self-conscious.
When it does, what we need more than help or encouragement is acceptance. We need to know that you see our whole person and that our differences don’t negate our personhood in your eyes.
How do you show someone acceptance? Simple: Treat them like a person. Ask them about themselves. Look at them when you’re talking to them. Seat them with the rest of the group if possible; if not, sit with them. Make sure they don’t get left behind.
Just like you would with anyone else.
Expect people’s best.
No, the twinge of disappointment didn’t matter. I’d work to do better next time. It was enough that my teachers thought me capable and deserving of the chance to improve. (157)
Sometimes, well-meaning people confuse accommodations with low expectations. In an attempt to be supportive to someone with disabilities, they excuse or even applaud them for giving less than their best.
That’s wrong. Once you know someone’s capabilities, expect them to do their best, just as you do everyone else.
Yes, their best might look different, and might (like yours) vary by the day or situation. But everyone has a best, and to expect less does them a dishonor. They’re human, and being human includes the capacity for personal excellence.
So encourage them in their low moments, bear with them in their struggles, celebrate their successes—and point them toward the best version of themselves.
Attend to the spiritual.
It didn’t matter whether I could keep up with my peers or do everything right—all God wanted was for me to trust Him. And that was something even I could do. (82)
In dealing with disability, we can get so caught up on practical needs that we neglect the spiritual. It doesn’t help that we tend to regard individuals with disabilities as already approaching sainthood. Why bother with spiritual education when their circumstances are doing the heavy work of producing patience, cheerfulness, and meekness?
The truth is, people with disabilities are human. They struggle. They sin. They need God no more and no less than the next person. They need His Word. They need His Church.
Trials alone won’t build character—they’ll build whatever a person practices in the midst of them. And hardships don’t articulate the saving message of the gospel.
So show people with disabilities God’s love and truth as readily as you would anyone else. Ask your disabled friends how they’re doing and how you can pray for them, just as you would any friend. Look for ways to make your church services more accessible. Consider how you can take church to people who can’t make it to a church building.
As always, seek God’s guidance—and trust Him to change lives.
Set this as your goal…
[Disability] inclusion is simpler than it’s sometimes cracked up to be. It’s treating people like the individuals they are and ensuring they have what they need in order to offer the gifts they have to give. (109)
When addressing inclusion, it’s easy to get hung up on dos and don’ts and details. Sometimes we need to step back and remember the why. What are we trying to accomplish?
In all your efforts at better inclusion, set this as your goal: To give a fellow human what they need to live a human life. When you lose focus or grow overwhelmed or confused, focus on doing that.
Give students what they need to learn. Give workers what they need to work. Give shoppers what they need to shop. Give book lovers what they need to read. Give talented artists what they need to do art. Give Christ’s disciples what they need to be discipled.
It’s not always easy. But it really is that simple. And it changes the world.
An earlier version of this content appeared as a series on my Facebook and Instagram pages.
All quotes are from my book, Just Megan: A Story of Grace and Resilience in the Face of the Unknown (Redemption Press, 2025). For more insights and real-life examples of disability inclusion, grab your copy here.
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