The words “neurodivergence” and “neurodiversity” were coined in the 1990s to describe a category for brain differences without the stigma of diagnoses. Today, the Oxford Dictionary defines neurodiversity as “the range of differences in individual brain function and behavioral traits, regarded as part of normal variation in the human population.” Someone who’s neurologically different from what’s considered common can be described as “neurodivergent,” in contrast to someone who’s “neurotypical.”
Neurodivergence is a social framework rather than a legal or medical term. Most eagerly embraced by those on the higher-functioning ends of the autism and ADHD spectrums, the word offers a sense of belonging and community in light of one’s struggles to relate to neurotypical peers. Embedded in ever-changing social and cultural norms, a neurodiversity paradigm exists on a vast continuum encompassing all brain differences and labels, including “neurotypical.”
The concept of neurodivergence might be best thought of as our culture’s attempt to make sense of the complexity and diversity of God’s good design for the human mind.
The concept of neurodivergence might be best thought of as our culture’s attempt to make sense of the complexity and diversity of God’s good design for the human mind. In his epistles, Paul begs believers not to argue over words. I assume he’d encourage using the term when helpful for life, godliness, or loving our neighbors and to throw it out if it causes someone to stumble, excuses willful sin, or distorts the gospel.
So how do we think biblically about neurodivergence without fully embracing or abandoning our culture’s system of analyzing and categorizing human behavior? And how might it help us love our brothers and sisters whose thoughts, behaviors, or emotions are very different from our own?
1. Embrace diversity as God’s idea.
Diversity isn’t some progressive 21st-century American ideal. Male and female, racial and ethnic diversity, and even concepts of biodiversity and neurodiversity begin in Genesis and run throughout Scripture. Biblical authors and characters represent a vast array of backgrounds, personalities, strengths, and weaknesses, including differences our generation would likely label “disorders” or “disabilities.”
Scripture explicitly states believers are given various gifts, services, activities, utterances, strengths, weaknesses, and needs on purpose for the common good (1 Cor. 12:4–7).
Those with gifts and limitations not easily fitting into our culturally established church systems aren’t excluded from God’s perfect design for unity in diversity within the body of Christ.
2. Acknowledge the complexity of embodied souls.
Proverbs 20:5 says the purpose of a man’s heart is like deep water. If we lack awareness about the invisible motivations, strengths, and struggles we all face, we’ll ask questions that can reveal harmful assumptions and wrong conclusions:
Why does my son walk in circles talking to himself or sit alone at lunch? Is he just strange?
Is the kid with bad grades simply lazy?
Why is the blind man blind or the lame man lame?
What did God see in David that no one else saw, including his family?
What was Paul’s invisible thorn that caused such turmoil and anguish?
Everyone has systems for categorizing people and behaviors based on perceptions, experiences, and natural bents. Scripture says it this way: “The LORD sees not as man sees; man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7). Like the ocean, there’s always so much more to a person than can be seen on the surface.
3. Distinguish between fallenness and sinfulness.
It’s easy to confuse brokenness or weakness with sinfulness.
Autistic meltdowns and ADHD impulsivity are often related to dysregulation and not willful sin. Individuals may certainly cause or do wrong in those states, but it’s important to rightly name what’s happening. We need forgiveness for our sin and rebellion through repentance. Bad grades, tantrums, disorganization, inappropriate comments, relational conflict, and irresponsibility may all be because of willful sin, but they may also be due to human limitation or fallenness.
There’s no hope, healing, or comfort in repenting for something that’s not sin, just as there’s no forgiveness of sin without repentance. C. S. Lewis said it this way:
Bad psychological material is not sin but a disease. It does not need to be repented of, but to be cured. . . . Some of us who seem quite nice people may, in fact, have made so little use of a good heredity and good upbringing that we are really worse than those whom we regard as fiends.
While discerning the difference between fallenness and sinfulness is as complex as each diverse human heart and mind, simply recognizing our limited understanding grows us in compassion and curiosity toward ourselves and others. The complex truth is that struggles often exist in the arenas of sin and suffering simultaneously.
My profoundly gifted 19-year-old son has ongoing struggles with social skills, sensory issues, and many basic life tasks—despite his mathematical genius and ability to publish four articles on cancer initiation and motor-protein transport in scientific journals before his 18th birthday. Being his mom is one of my greatest joys and greatest challenges. I’ve grown to embrace his unique limitations and gifts as God’s good design for him and our family, but it remains difficult for him to accept his complex mind as a gift instead of a curse.
Like many outliers on the neurodiversity spectrum, he struggles with shame and with feelings of failure, otherness, and inferiority. It’s often difficult (even for him) to know when his behaviors are willful sin and when they’re related to his unique limitations. Typical human motivations, intuitions, and behaviors are often as cryptic to him as his favorite math equations are to me. Nuance, unspoken social rules, and cultural norms are completely lost on him. The older he gets, the more he longs for genuine community and belonging—even as his feelings of isolation grow.
I asked for his help as I sought to answer the next question: How do those of us on different ends of the neurodiversity continuum love one another well?
Love the Neurodivergent Well
1. Make no assumptions.
When surprised, annoyed, or even offended by others, fight the tendency to judge and withdraw. Actively invite conversation and relationship and be willing to offer clear expectations and boundaries.
If you feel uncomfortable, be honest. If she’s talking too much, too close, or too loud, just tell her. Define your terms. State the obvious. Teach the unspoken rules. If he embarrasses you, don’t tease, pull away, or offer subtle hints about your discomfort. I promise, your neurodivergent friends want to know and will feel loved, rather than hurt, by blunt honesty and directness.
It’s unnatural and uncomfortable to push back against our automatic social intuitions or to move toward others we don’t understand. But it speaks volumes of love to willingly enter into the same unnatural discomfort many neurodivergent brothers and sisters face all the time in social settings.
2. Seek to know and understand.
When confused, still choose to be curious and compassionate. Ask thoughtful questions. Is she standing off alone? Go say hello. She might be content with her own thoughts, but it’s just as likely she wants to be included but doesn’t know how. By being the one to notice and pursue, you’re using your gifts to love others and image a personal God who sees, knows, and continues to pursue us.
3. Let your love be genuine.
No one wants to be tolerated or feel like a box on your righteous to-do list. First Corinthians 12 says to show greater honor and dignity, not pity, to weaker members. While neurodivergent brothers and sisters might have more visible weaknesses, God is the One who has arranged the body with many parts, each needed and indispensable.
Being vulnerable and allowing yourself to be known as you seek to know another person who’s different from you normalizes weakness and fosters unity and brotherly affection. After all, we’ve been purposefully designed, for the common good, so that together we image the fullness of God’s glory even as his power is made perfect in our weaknesses.
Love Others Well When You’re Neurodivergent
1. Don’t withhold your gifts.
Sometimes we express love by making space for others, while other times we express love by being willing to take up space. This doesn’t mean we have permission to insist on our way, dominate a conversation, or purposefully draw attention to ourselves in the name of neurodiversity. If that’s your tendency, it’s loving to consider how these behaviors affect others and to practice engaging in ways that make everyone feel safe, seen, and loved.
If you tend to withdraw into yourself, show love by being willing to join conversations and social events despite knowing it’ll be uncomfortable, confusing, and possibly even lead to awkwardness or embarrassment. Accept invitations, show up, and lovingly strive to engage in reciprocal relationships. Your gifts are indispensable to the body.
2. Don’t let weakness define you.
We’re all prone to define ourselves and judge others based on strengths and weaknesses, and to moralize God-given talents and limitations. Having more visible gifts and talents tempts us to believe we chose how our minds and bodies were designed—leading to thinking too highly of ourselves. More visible limitations and weaknesses tempt us to despise God’s perfect design, leading to self-deprecation, shame, and thinking too lowly of ourselves.
Seeing ourselves and others rightly, through the eyes of our Creator who made us diverse on purpose, creates the kind of interdependence, mutual care, flourishing, belonging, and unity described in 1 Corinthians 12. When we allow nothing other than the gospel to define us, we’re freed from the shame or pride that stops us from loving others through practicing vulnerability, taking social risks, asking for help, or making amends when we fail.
Practical Love
The call in 1 Corinthians 12 is for all of us to use our God-given strengths and weaknesses for the good of one another. The chapter that follows, commonly called the “love chapter,” begins by naming the uselessness of any uniquely powerful gift apart from love.
God has arranged the body with many parts, each needed and indispensable.
Those who can woo and mesmerize a room with their verbal acumen—yet lack love—are called noisy gongs or clanging cymbals. Social skills are worthless without love. In the same way, mathematical geniuses who understand all mysteries and knowledge are said to be nothing if they don’t have love (1 Cor. 13:1–2).
We’re all called to love, no matter where we fall on the neurodiversity continuum, even when it isn’t natural or comfortable. After all, it’s not our gifts or limitations that make us worth anything. It’s our love for one another.
The Gospel Coalition