Throughout Scripture, we encounter individuals whose behaviors, communication patterns, and social interactions seem decidedly different from societal norms. As an autistic Christian, I've come to recognize patterns that suggest God has always had a special place for neurodivergent minds in His redemptive plan.
Consider the prophet Ezekiel. This man lay on his side for 390 days, then switched sides for another 40 days. He built elaborate models and performed what would today be called "performance art" to communicate divine messages. His intense focus on specific details, his use of visual aids to communicate complex concepts, and his difficulty with typical social conventions all suggest a mind that worked differently—perhaps autistically.
Or take the Apostle Paul. His writings reveal a brilliant, systematic thinker with an encyclopedic knowledge of Scripture and law. Yet his letters also show someone who could be socially awkward, who needed others to interpret his abrupt communication style, and who seemed to miss social cues that would have made his message more palatable to diverse audiences. His single-minded focus on his mission, his difficulty understanding why others didn't immediately grasp his logical arguments, and his need for explicit structure in church organization all resonate with autistic patterns.
Then there's John the Baptist, living in the wilderness, wearing camel hair, eating locusts and honey, and showing little interest in social niceties or political expediency. His rigid adherence to truth, his disregard for social status, and his intense special interest in preparing the way for the Messiah could all be markers of neurodivergence.
What strikes me most profoundly is that God didn't just tolerate these differences—He specifically called these individuals for crucial roles in salvation history. Ezekiel's unusual methods were exactly what was needed to communicate to a people in exile. Paul's systematic thinking and ability to hyperfocus made him the perfect theologian to articulate the implications of Christ's work. John's uncompromising nature was precisely what was required to prepare hearts for radical transformation.
This pattern continues throughout Scripture. Moses, who described himself as "slow of speech," might today be recognized as having processing or communication differences. Yet God chose him to lead an entire nation and to receive the Law. Jeremiah's emotional intensity and his struggle to contain the word of God burning within him reflects the passionate, sometimes overwhelming internal world many autistic people experience.
As an autistic person, I find profound comfort in these biblical patterns. My differences aren't accidents to be overcome or obstacles to my usefulness to God. They're part of how I'm created, and they may even be specifically suited for the unique calling God has on my life.
This doesn't mean neurodivergence is without challenges. Many of these biblical figures struggled significantly. They were often misunderstood, rejected, and sometimes faced severe persecution. But their stories affirm that God's power is perfected in weakness, and His plans often work through those the world overlooks or misunderstands.
The neurotypical approach isn't the only valid way to think, communicate, or experience faith. God's creativity in human design reflects His infinite nature, and the neurodiversity we see in both Scripture and our communities today might be less about fallen-world brokenness and more about the beautiful variety inherent in being made in the image of an infinitely complex Creator.
When the Church recognizes and celebrates neurodivergent contributions rather than trying to force everyone into neurotypical patterns of worship and service, we become more fully the Body of Christ—where every member, with their unique gifts and perspectives, is essential to the whole.