Autism and church
Taking kids to church can be difficult at the best of times. They like to wriggle in an environment where sitting still is the gold standard; they tend to make noise at the most inappropriate times. If Sunday school isn’t on then parents often ask, is it really worth going? I get it, parenting can be tough, and autistic kids can make the whole thing tougher, for everyone (not just the parents!). The church environment can be just as tough on adults though, something I’ve been noticing more and more and found that there aren’t too many places where this is addressed. So I figured I’d share my own thoughts and experiences and perhaps get some conversations starting.
Experiences of an autistic adult
Last Sunday I hid at church. Yes, that is right, I am 37 years old and I hid. I’ve never done this before, and I now wonder why not because it was fantastic! Previously I’ve spent the time after the service either looking for someone to talk to (that was back in the olden days when I felt the compulsion, though not the desire, to be sociable, with my parents being the exception as I’m always happy to chat to them), or wandered around ‘with purpose’. ‘With purpose’ essentially meant: finding my children, performing some ministry task, finding my husband, or going to the toilet. Always be on the move.
Wandering… This is actually something I do often as an autistic person. Wandering between rooms, looking like I’m doing something to avoid a) making small talk, or b) acknowledging that I had no real connections with anyone. I guess the latter isn’t exactly true every time, however I see it as a fruitless exercise to strike up a ‘deep and meaningful’ with anyone at church, even those who I might connect with. It’s loud, other people interrupt constantly, the seating arrangement isn’t comfortable, and there’s a time-limit. What’s the point when we’re just going to have leave in 5 minutes anyway? So small talk it must be, but as I don’t do well with small talk, I fall back on wandering. Or hiding, as I discovered last week. I sat upstairs where no one could find me and read while I waited for my husband’s meeting to finish. Bliss.
Why am I telling you this?
Have you ever considered how autistics fair in a church environment? If you haven’t, don’t feel bad, because neither had I until recently. Let me share some of my thoughts:
We attend church every Sunday, which apparently isn’t the norm anymore but I see benefits from regular attendance if only for the sake of routine. Routine is desirable for an autistic, so church ticks that box!
Church is a building full of other people: sitting next to you, wanting to shake hand (pre-covid, anyway), asking ‘How are you?’ and possibly even genuinely wanting to hear your answer! Enforced social interaction… Big cross.
We attend a church where the service generally follows the same pattern every week: songs 1 & 2, welcoming/notices, Song 3, communion & offering, Song 4, sermon, Song 5 (if the sermon didn’t go overtime), leave. Ah, the comfort of routine. Tick.
The music can be loud depending on who’s playing and where you sit in relation to the speakers. The lights may be too bright, or too dim. If you turn up late then someone else may be sitting in your ‘spot’. Your new seat may be too hot or too cold, depending on the heating/cooling system. They may change the order of service. Oh dear, too many unknowns! Cross.
There is one glorious safe haven within a church: the tech desk. That little known space at the back, physically and psychologically removed from the rest of the world, where much responsibility is given with little reward, but it is worth it because of the social bubble that it provides. Or should I say, anti-social bubble. You can chat to others, or choose not to. You can hide there after the service without fear of being pounced upon. The tech ministry is the autistic’s friend. Tick.
Experiences of an autistic child
This is the experience of an autistic adult (me, anyway), but what of an autistic child? They have all the challenges that a non-autistic child faces plus some. Actually, it’s pretty similar to that of an autistic adult: it can be too loud, it can be too bright, it can be too dark, it can be too hot, it can be too cold. And what if you’re late and miss out on ‘your’ seat? Disaster! Friendships can be extra hard, especially when churches are small and the options are limited. If the routine changes then this might cause a problem as expectations aren’t met, and if they’re struggling to deal with dysregulation from something that happened prior to arrival then there’s little chance of your family rocking up at church and having a merry time.
Not only do children face the same challenges as adults, but their strategies of dealing with them might even be the same. Some children might be vocal or violent, they find comfort in food, or they pester and pester you until you give in and go home straight after the service. My own strategies were the same as they are now, though they look a bit different. I remember hiding, with or without my one friend (I only ever had one at a time throughout my childhood at church), and I remember wandering. If my single friend was there I would play on the playground with them, go into the ‘out of bound areas’, or when we were teenagers we would circle the building endlessly and chat. When they weren’t there then I would sometimes spent time hiding in different rooms or wander aimlessly, but in a purposeful fashion, to ward of questions, and my own insecurity. This was my coping strategy then and nothing has really changed.
What’s the solution?
If you’re an autistic adult and are not coping with the church environment then you’re not alone. Do what you need to do not just to survive but to thrive. This will look different according to what your challenges are. You might need to leave straight after the service (or even before the service has finished). You might join a ministry to have a sense of purpose (remember, the tech team doubles as a place to hide!). You might need to wear sunnies and ear plugs to overcome some sensory issues and who cares what others say! A loving church will accept your quirkiness. You might also like to consider educating others about autism, for your own sake but also for the autistic children among the ranks.
Speaking of which, what do you do if your child isn’t coping? Here are a couple of strategies that you could try, and if they don’t work then either a) check back here in a year’s time to see if I’ve received further enlightenment, or b) keep seeking out the answer from elsewhere.
1. Evidence is emerging that you can’t de-sensitise a child to a hostile environment as it merely leads to masking or trauma, but I believe you can get them used to new things (to a point and within reason). To combat potential sensory assault always bring ear muffs, a jumper, a hat (for light sensitivity), something to calm, something to eat and drink, something to distract, and try your darndest to arrive on time. Support them to get used to the variations of what a church service might bring. Perhaps use a visual schedule like the one available in the resources section?
2. If things are still too overwhelming, what’s your Plan B? One Sunday fairly recently our son stayed in the café, playing quietly amongst the stacked chairs the entire service, while we sat in the auditorium. That was our Plan B. It was better than returning home. It was better than not coming and breaking routine. The next week, the world was ok and we sat together again, no chair climbing required (he did ask if he could do it again but accepted our ‘that was a once-off’ response).
3. I believe one of the most important things you can do is to keep turning up. It will get better! … Maybe (bit of a disclaimer there). Churches, at least in Australia, are actually pretty good at sticking to schedules and routines, so there are few surprises in store. This is one of their strengths – boring for some, a source of comfort for others. Even in a children’s ministry they tend to follow the same pattern. But regular attendance is still required to make the most of this strength and so turning up every week works with the autistic’s desire for routine.
4. If this is still not working and your child’s challenges are making it impossible to attend, then thank God for zoom! One great thing about this pandemic is that most churches are streaming their services, and this might be your lot for a while. And that’s ok, because this is just a season.
5. Sometimes church isn’t working because of other people not being particularly understanding of your family situation. This is another issue entirely. Do you pray and stay, or do you move to find a more receptive congregation? That’s something you need to work out with God.
I may not enjoy many aspects of attending church and I may not be your shining example of a friendly church-goer, but I’m still there every Sunday, and so are my autistic children. They have their own struggles and ways of coping. We attend because I recognise the need to fellowship with other believers (or at least, share the same air), to worship our Saviour in different ways, to give and to receive through ministry, to re-set our priorities and re-focus on His grace, mercy, kindness, love, holiness, glory – so many adjectives I could use! Being autistic and attending church isn’t easy but it’s just as necessary and just as possible as if you are neurotypical. So if you are struggling to attend church because of your own challenges or your child’s, or think that it’s impossible and church ‘just isn’t for you’, then I’m here to say that actually, it is entirely possible for autistics to attend church, if allowed to attend in their own way. Just bring your ear muffs and make sure you’re on-time!