I rock back and forth when I'm thinking deeply. I tap rhythmically when processing information. I pace when praying. I flap my hands when excited or overwhelmed. These movements—collectively called "stimming" (self-stimulatory behavior)—are natural autistic responses to sensory input, emotional states, or cognitive processing needs.
For years, I suppressed these movements in public, especially in church. Stimming seemed incompatible with reverent worship. Christians are supposed to be still, composed, physically controlled during prayer and worship. My body's need for movement seemed like a distraction from spiritual focus.
Then I encountered the biblical tradition of physical prayer and worship, and everything shifted.
King David "danced before the LORD with all his might" (2 Samuel 6:14). The Psalms repeatedly call for clapping, shouting, raising hands, and physical movement in worship. Jesus prayed intensely enough in Gethsemane that He sweat drops of blood—this wasn't calm, composed prayer but embodied agony. Paul and Silas sang hymns in prison, likely not quiet contemplative singing but loud, full-bodied worship.
Biblical spirituality isn't disembodied. It recognizes that we're integrated persons—body and spirit together—and that physical expression both reflects and facilitates spiritual states.
Jewish prayer traditionally includes shuckling—rhythmic swaying back and forth while praying or studying Torah. This movement aids concentration, helps maintain focus during extended prayer, and expresses physical engagement with sacred activity. Sound familiar? It's essentially sanctioned stimming.
Orthodox Christianity includes extensive standing, bowing, and prostrating during liturgy. Catholic traditions include kneeling, genuflecting, and making the sign of the cross. Charismatic worship often involves raised hands, dancing, and physical expressiveness. All of these recognize that the body participates in worship, not just the mind or spirit.
So why do we assume that autistic stimming is inappropriate during prayer?
I've come to see my stimming as embodied prayer. When I rock while praying, the physical rhythm helps me maintain focus. The repetitive movement occupies my body so my mind is free to engage with God. It's functionally identical to shuckling, just arising naturally from my neurology rather than being learned from tradition.
When I pace during prayer, I'm following a long tradition. The desert fathers walked in their cells while praying. Many people find walking aids thinking and prayer. My autistic need for movement during cognitive processing isn't a deficit; it's how my particular body-mind integration works.
When I flap my hands in response to a profound worship moment, I'm physically expressing what my body feels—joy, awe, gratitude too large for words. This is no different from raised hands or clapping, just with a different movement pattern. Why should neurotypical movement be acceptable while autistic movement is not?
The assumption that stillness equals reverence is cultural, not biblical. It reflects Western European Protestant aesthetics more than biblical spirituality. Many cultures worship with extensive physical movement—African worship often includes dance, Pentecostal worship includes physical expressiveness, Jewish worship includes shuckling.
Autistic stimming during worship fits comfortably within global Christianity's diverse physical expressions of faith. It only seems wrong if you absolutize one cultural form (quiet, still, composed) as the only appropriate way to worship.
Moreover, suppressing stims often interferes with genuine engagement. If I'm using mental energy to control my body's natural movements, I have less energy for actual prayer. If I'm anxious about how I'm being perceived, I'm distracted from focusing on God. Allowing my body to move as it needs to actually facilitates deeper prayer.
This doesn't mean all stimming in all contexts is appropriate. There's a difference between movement that aids my prayer and movement that distracts others from theirs. In corporate worship, I need to balance my needs with community consideration.
But this balance should be sought through accommodation and understanding, not through demanding autistic people suppress all movement. Churches can create spaces where stimming is welcome. They can educate congregations so autistic movement isn't interpreted as disrespect. They can recognize that physical diversity in worship reflects the Body of Christ's actual diversity.
I've also found that different prayers call for different movements. Contemplative prayer works better with gentle rocking or stillness. Intercessory prayer often works better with pacing. Confession sometimes calls for stillness or prostration. Praise might involve more energetic movement. My body intuitively knows what physical expression fits which prayer, if I listen to it.
This is actually an advantage. Neurotypical people often have to learn to engage their bodies in prayer. Autistic people naturally integrate physical movement with mental and spiritual activity. Our stimming is a built-in somatic prayer practice, if we'll let it be.
The contemplative tradition speaks of "praying with the body"—using physical postures and movements to facilitate spiritual states. Autistic stimming does exactly this. The repetitive movement creates a rhythmic, meditative state conducive to prayer. The physical regulation calms the nervous system, making space for spiritual engagement.
Scripture itself uses embodied metaphors for spiritual realities. We're called to "walk with God," to "run the race," to have our "feet fitted with readiness." These aren't purely metaphorical. Physical movement and spiritual movement are connected. My autistic body's need to move while praying might be participating in these embodied spiritual realities more literally than neurotypical stillness does.
I'm not arguing that stimming is inherently spiritual or that autistic people have special spiritual access. I'm arguing that autistic movement is compatible with prayer and worship, that it can facilitate rather than hinder spiritual engagement, and that churches should welcome it rather than suppress it.
Practical suggestions for churches:
- Teach that physical diversity in worship is normal and acceptable
- Create designated spaces where movement is explicitly welcomed
- Don't interpret stimming as disrespect or inattention
- Allow autistic people to stand, pace, or move during services
- Include movement in worship intentionally so it's not marked as only autistic people moving
For autistic Christians:
- Don't suppress stims during prayer if they help you focus
- Experiment with how different movements affect different types of prayer
- Recognize your stimming as embodied spiritual practice, not distraction
- Communicate with church leadership about your needs
- Don't internalize messages that your body's natural movements are inappropriate
God created us as embodied beings. He didn't make a mistake when He created autistic neurology with its need for repetitive movement. Our stims aren't obstacles to prayer; they can be pathways to it.
When I rock back and forth while praying, my whole self—body and spirit together—is engaged with God. That's not less spiritual than still, composed prayer. It's differently embodied spirituality, appropriate to how God made me.
The Psalmist writes, "Let everything that has breath praise the LORD" (Psalm 150:6). My autistic body, with its rocking and pacing and hand-flapping, has breath. It can praise. It does praise, through movement that's natural to how I'm created.
That's not despite being autistic. It's through being autistic—embodied, movement-loving, physically expressive in distinctly autistic ways. And God, who formed me in the womb and numbers the hairs on my head, surely doesn't object to the physical expression He designed into my neurology.