We used to think certain behaviors were just about discipline. Or defiance. Or “choices.” We labeled kids as oppositional, adults as lazy, and teens as rebellious. Or we turned to the parents and labeled the child a result of “bad parenting.”
What we didn’t see was the brain beneath the individual’s behavior—and more than that, the person beneath the pain. This is hard for them and many times, they are frustrated with themselves, struggle with liking themselves, and have an extremely exhausted brain that has worked so hard to remember even to eat and drink some days.
We need a change in our thinking. They are not a problem to fix. They are a person to love.
The Gospel encompasses and addresses suffering. This includes brains that don’t play by the neurotypical rulebook.
1. Their Brain Isn’t Broken—But the World Is
1. Jesus Doesn’t Flinch at the Different or the Difficult
If you had met the man who lived among tombs in Mark 5—unpredictable, loud, misunderstood, feared—you might have called him too much. Jesus called him mine.
Over and over, Jesus moved toward those the world pushed to the edges—those with tangled minds, trembling bodies, and troubled reputations. He didn’t demand their best behavior. He offered Himself.
Neurodivergence isn’t too much for Jesus.
The brain that fidgets, zones out, melts down, or freezes in fear—that brain is not a burden to Him. Nothing is impossible for Him. His unlimited power is greater than our limited brains.
He didn’t come to pat well-behaved people on the back. He came to rescue all of us in our deepest need, including those who can’t always explain theirs.
2. Jesus Knew What It Was to Be Misunderstood
He grew up poor. He was homeless. His own family thought He was out of His mind (Mark 3:21). The religious leaders called Him demon-possessed.
Jesus isn’t distant from the isolation neurodivergent kids and adults often feel—He walked through it.
He knows what it’s like to be labeled, misjudged, and dismissed. He never sinned, and still, people misunderstood Him.
If your child is seen as “too much” or “not enough,” take heart: Jesus was, too.
And He didn’t give up. He just kept loving and serving His Father.
3. Jesus Offers Rest to the Dysregulated
He doesn’t say, “Come to Me, all who have finally calmed down and gotten it together.” He says:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
The Gospel is not, “Behave and belong.” It’s “Come and collapse into My grace.” And that’s true for neurodivergent people who feel exhausted by a world not built for their brains—and it’s true for the caregivers and therapists who are just plain tired.
Jesus is safe. His love is steady. His yoke is easy—not because life is, but because He carries the weight we cannot.
4. Jesus Gives a Better Name Than the World Does
The world might label your child with diagnostic codes. Teachers might call them a challenge. Churches might not know where they fit.
But Jesus? He gives a new name.
“You are mine.”
“You are chosen.”
“You are fearfully and wonderfully made.”
“You are not alone.”
Jesus meets the neurodivergent person not at the finish line, but right at the meltdown, the shutdown, the awkward silence, or the panic attack. He doesn’t wait for them to conform. He climbs into their experience—and holds them fast.
5. The Cross Is Big Enough for Every Brain
Some of us feel pressure to “fix” our child so they can fit the mold. But the Gospel breaks the mold entirely.
The good news isn’t that Jesus helps us act “normal.” The good news is that Jesus died and rose again to bring us into His Kingdom—not by performance, but by grace.
For the anxious teen: His blood covers every panic, every avoidance, every shutdown.
For the burned-out mom: His Spirit strengthens you when no plan or chart works and people begin to stare or question your parenting.
For the adult who still carries shame: His resurrection is proof that your story isn’t over.
Jesus didn’t come to modify behavior. He came to make us new.
6. The Church Can Look Like Jesus, Too
What if our churches became the safest place in town for neurodivergent people?
What if volunteers weren’t just trained in behavior management—but transformed by Christ’s compassion?
What if the pulpit said what Jesus says—“Let the children come to Me”—and meant all children, in all their intensity, silence, stimming, and struggle?
And what if we saw that in walking slowly with these precious image-bearers, we get a front-row seat to the upside-down beauty of the Kingdom of God?
Final Thought: Jesus Is Not Ashamed of the Ones We Try to Hide
He isn’t embarrassed by the child who paces or flaps in the sanctuary.
He doesn’t avoid the teen who can’t hold eye contact.
He isn’t frustrated by adults who speak bluntly or forget social cues.
In fact, He is the safest Person they will ever meet.
So let’s meet them there, too.
Let’s stop expecting them to be the way we think they should be—and start showing them Jesus, who became like us all, to bring us Home.
The Connected Table 
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