The mom pushing the wheelchair walks into the church lobby. The dad explains for the third time why his son is making repetitive sounds during the children's message. The grandparents sit alone in the back, their grandson's meltdown still echoing in their minds as they wonder if they'll ever feel truly welcome.

As a church community, we want to support families raising children with special needs. We genuinely want to help. But sometimes, in our eagerness to show compassion, our words land differently than we intend. The gap between what we mean and what parents hear can leave families feeling more isolated, not less.

The good news? We can learn to communicate in ways that truly encourage, support, and welcome these precious families into our church community.

What NOT to Say (And Why)

"God only gives special needs kids to special people."

While meant as a compliment, this phrase suggests God intentionally burdens certain families as a sort of divine compliment. It dismisses the real struggles parents face and can make them feel they're not allowed to admit when things are hard. Parents didn't sign up to be "special"—they're simply loving the child they've been given.

Better alternative: "I see how much you love your son. How can I support you?"

"Have you tried [insert diet/therapy/supplement]?"

Unless you're their child's doctor, unsolicited medical advice suggests parents haven't already exhausted every reasonable option. These families typically know more about their child's condition than you ever will. They've researched, consulted specialists, and made informed decisions.

Better alternative: "I'd love to learn more about what's been helpful for your daughter."

"I couldn't do what you do."

This well-meaning statement actually creates distance. It places special needs parents on a pedestal, making them seem fundamentally different from you. It can also sound like their life is so terrible that you couldn't bear it.

Better alternative: "You're doing an amazing job. Parenting is hard work, isn't it?"

"She doesn't look autistic/disabled."

Many disabilities are invisible (80%), and this comment invalidates both the child's diagnosis and the family's daily reality. It also implies that disabled children should "look" a certain way.

Better alternative: Say nothing about appearance. Instead: "I'm glad your family is here today."

"Everything happens for a reason."

When a parent is grieving lost dreams or facing a difficult diagnosis, this phrase minimizes their pain. It pressures them to find silver linings and hidden purposes when they're simply trying to survive each day. Parents don't need philosophical explanations—they need someone to acknowledge that their situation is genuinely hard.

Better alternative: "I'm so sorry you're going through this. I'm here to walk alongside you."

"At least it's not worse," or "At least you have other healthy kids."

Comparisons don't comfort—they shame. These statements tell parents their grief isn't valid because someone somewhere has it harder.

Better alternative: Acknowledge their reality without comparison: "This must be really challenging."

What TO Say (And Why It Matters)

"I see you, and I see your child."

Simple acknowledgment is powerful. Parents often feel invisible in church spaces. A genuine smile, eye contact, and recognition of their presence says, "You belong here."

"What does your child enjoy?"

This question focuses on the child's interests and personality rather than their diagnosis. It treats them as a whole person, not a condition.

"How are YOU doing?"

Special needs parents are constantly asked about their child. Rarely does anyone ask about them. This question shows you see the parent as an individual with their own needs and feelings.

"I'd love to include your son. What would help him participate?"

This empowers parents as the experts on their child. It assumes inclusion is the goal and simply asks for practical guidance.

"I'm praying for your family" (then actually do it).

Prayer support is meaningful in a church context, but only if sincere. Be specific: "I'm praying for rest for you this week" is better than vague promises.

"Can I bring you dinner/watch your other kids/run an errand?"

Specific, practical offers are better than "Let me know if you need anything." These families are often too exhausted to ask for help, even when they desperately need it.

Say nothing—just sit with them.

Sometimes presence matters more than words. Sitting beside a parent during a difficult moment, without trying to fix anything, communicates profound acceptance.

The Heart Behind the Words

The best communication flows from a posture of humility and a genuine relationship. We don't need perfect words—we need open hearts. When we approach special needs families as fellow image-bearers of God, equally loved and equally valuable, our words naturally become more gracious.

Remember: these parents are experts on their own children. They're navigating challenges you may never fully understand. Our role isn't to solve, fix, or pity—it's to welcome, support, and walk alongside.

In God's kingdom, there's no "us" and "them." There's only us—one body, many members, each one essential. When we get our words right, we reflect that beautiful truth. Your church will be richer, more authentic, and more like the diverse family of God when special needs families know they truly belong. It starts with a conversation—and choosing our words with care and love. That's when the church becomes what it was always meant to be: a place where every family finds a home.

Stephen “Doc” Hunsley, M.D. is the Executive Director and founder of SOAR Special Needs in Lenexa, Kansas. SOAR (Special Opportunities, Abilities, and Relationships) serves over 1200 individuals with special needs through regular respite events and a Special Needs Day Camp. Doc is currently assisting over 600 churches locally, nationally, and globally in starting a Disability Ministry. Doc also organizes the Wonderfully Made Conference held annually every October in Kansas City. Doc is a USAF veteran and a retired pediatrician while his wife, Kay, continues practicing pediatrics. They are proud parents to three beautiful children: Luke, Mark, and Sarah. The Hunsley’s middle child, Mark, is presently running the halls of heaven. During Mark’s five-year earthly stay, he gave his family the opportunity to learn from and love a child with autism. You can follow SOAR on Facebook or Connect with Doc on Twitter: @DocHunsley SOARSpecialNeeds.org.