The child and God: Some reflections from disability theology on divine-child encounters

Introduction

Child development theories are popular but contentious within Christian circles when ministering to a child (see, for example, Yount, 2010; Astley and Francis, 1992; Pazmiño, 1997: 189–217; Estep, 2010). Often such theories are seen to limit and downplay the abilities that a child has, particularly a child who has not yet learnt to speak (pre-verbal). This response has led to a movement away from cognitive instruction as a central aspect of children’s ministry. In particular, Godly Play has refocused the discussion on the child encountering God rather than focusing on the transmission of information (Berryman, 1991: 60; 2002: 21–22; 2009: 54; 2013: 68).

Michael Anthony has identified a continuum of learning around how God is experienced by the child between ‘Cognitive reasoning (thinking)’ and ‘Affective expression (feeling)’ (Anthony, 2006: 36). These are best expressed by the two models of ‘Instructional-Analytic’ and ‘Contemplative Reflective’. The first is marked by ‘a high regard for cognitive thought processing’ and an overemphasis on learning facts (Anthony, 2006: 37). The second is marked by ‘periods of quiet reflection, introspective prayer, and storytelling’ and a downplaying of cognitive knowing (Anthony, 2006: 36).

There appears to be an overlap of concerns between the theology of childhood and pastoral approaches which have been developed towards individuals with intellectual disabilities. This article will examine the intersect between child theology and disability theology and will consider the latter’s potential contribution to the debates around the importance of cognition for faith formation. It will be clear that these are two distinct disciplines with significant differences, yet are there places where an approach to those without full adult cognition, for example, may inform children’s ministry practice? When I speak of adults with disability in this paper, this will presume those with mild, moderate or severe intellectual disability which affects processing function in a way that has parallels with childhood. I am utilising UK descriptors around intellectual disability (Nidirect Government Services, 2018; Swinton, 2020: 186). Related terms may be cognitive disability or learning disability.

In particular, the work of John Swinton will be examined to observe any potential positive connections. These will be assessed through the lens of the author as a Reformed evangelical in the UK. Potential connections will then be analysed, and conclusions drawn. Three reflections will be suggested in light of this comparison: the essential role of knowledge in the growth and development of the child; the importance of the role of the adult in faith formation; and the holistic nature of how formation occurs in a children’s ministry session.

Knowing about versus knowing God

There has been much recent discussion around the necessity of propositional knowledge required for the child to know God. Propositional knowledge refers to what can be communicated of God in propositional form (such as ‘God is true’) rather than in stories or experience. This has led to a division in ministry between those approaches which seek to make God known through cognitive means and those which eschew an information-based approach.

Much of this discussion rotates round the perceived importance of the use of developmental models in children’s ministry. Developmental models are those which focus on the progression of the child as they grow, whether that is in cognitive reasoning, physical, moral or social development (e.g. see Yount, 2010). John Westerhoff’s 1976 work Will Our Children Have Faith is particularly important in this regard. In one notable passage, he attacks what he terms the ‘schooling-instructional paradigm’, an approach based on secular schooling techniques which seeks to teach religion but can never teach faith. His dismissal regards a method which teaches about God rather than forming the child in faith in God (Westerhoff, 2012: 19). This paradigm that Westerhoff refers to is seen to come out of the Sunday School movement with its focus on the rote learning of facts and Bible memorisation (Westerhoff, 2012: 3–9). It is this focus on cognitive development as ‘the gradual, orderly process by which mental processes become more complex and sophisticated which is the problem’ (Yount, 2010: 86). Westerhoff blames the influence of modernity for these emphases (Westerhoff, 2012: 132).

Westerhoff continues to place the focus on faith rather than religion, writing, ‘Educationally, religion is a means not an end; faith is the only end’ (Westerhoff, 2012: 19). This separation of external religion and something inner called faith or spirituality chimes with much of that written by David Hay and Rebecca Nye, as well as from many within the child spirituality movement (Hay and Nye, 2006: 17–32; Hyde et al., 2008: 11–25; Yust, 2004: 4). For Hay, spirituality is first experienced and then codified in religion. It defies rational, logical or verbal pronouncement (Hay, 2007: 5–22).

Jerome Berryman picks up on Westerhoff’s language and approach in his Godly Play pedagogy which considers the child’s knowledge of God in a distinctly experiential way. He is sharply critical of what he terms the ‘transfer method of teaching and learning’ which focuses on content and information. His rationale for Godly Play is that it ‘helps children know God and the Bible instead of simply knowing about God or about the Bible’ (Berryman, 2002: 19, emphasis his). He also builds on Richard St Victor’s threefold knowing to emphasise the necessity of contemplation by the spirit as different from sense knowing of the body and rational knowing of the mind.

Berryman’s theory and practice then begin to impinge on evangelical children’s ministry when it is employed in the Contemplative-Reflective Model. As Scottie May further unpacks this approach, she places front and centre the Godly Play model (May, 2006: 74–78). This contrasts with an instructional approach where an adult teaches the child what is expected to be known and understood (Westerhoff, 2012: 6). Michael Anthony uses the term Instructional-Analytic instead of Westerhoff’s term but the definition seems similar.

This model also rejects the developmental framework that has been developed by Fowler and others (May, 2006: 60). In fact Berryman makes the scathing comment that such an approach suggests ‘cognitive disability’ (Berryman, 1991: 138). This is due to the claim that a focus on knowing about God will ‘smother’ the nascent spirituality in the child (Hay et al., 1996: 54).

The Instructional-Analytic Model places greater emphasis on a developmental approach which adopts many secular observations and analyses them through a biblical framework (Carlson and Crupper, 2007: 120–121; See also Yount, 2010; Bridger, 2000; Estep, 2010). There is therefore a greater emphasis on cognitive knowledge. Carlson and Crupper describe the method as being varied but consisting of three aspects: reading Scripture, studying Scripture and memorising Scripture (Carlson and Crupper, 2007: 130). They demonstrate the application of this through their description of the American AWANA Clubs International (Carlson and Crupper, 2007: 136–147). In the UK these may be represented by a number of mainstream publications which are marked by a clear theme or aim sentence which seek to communicate a specific message from a Scripture passage (See, for example, Masters, 1991; Clark et al., 2005; Kessell, 2018; Johnson and Watkinson, no date).

These two philosophies result in very different processes in children’s ministry. One of the accusations by those using the Contemplative-Reflective model is that propositional theology, and therefore certain strands of evangelicalism which rely upon creedal statements, for example, automatically leads to an exclusion of those with less cognitive ability from the Kingdom of God. For if intellectual assent were necessary for membership, then infants and those with intellectual disabilities are incapable of this. This division of knowing versus knowing about marks out not merely a difference in philosophical and methodological approach, but a difference in theology of how the child might encounter God and be formed in the life of faith.

Disability theology

A possible parallel to the young child, particularly the pre-verbal child, lies within the strand of disability theology that deals with cognitive impairment where brain processing is not working as it should. For this involves ‘offering the Word to those who have no words’ (Swinton, 1997: 22). Disability theology is a more recent discipline that seeks to ‘explore the ways in which the Bible and Christian traditions interact with the experience of human disability, with a view to deepening, thickening, and challenging understandings of God and the human’ (Swinton, 2022: 249).

A clarification is necessary: the lack of verbal skills may not indicate cognitive disability. This is true of both the child and the adult. Yet a similarity is present: both a child and an adult with learning disability will have a degree to which complex ideas may not be grasped and vocabulary may be limited. There will be occasions where a verbal mode of instruction will not be comprehended for a variety of reasons. This leads to a similarity in relationality between the child or impaired adult and their caregiver: there is an expectation of greater levels of dependence and vulnerability in play here than with, say ministry to non-disabled adults. This attention to communicating the gospel in ministry to adults with cognitive disability may highlight transferrable aspects which might be overlooked in the adoption of more standard adult practices in children’s ministry.

At this point the differences between the permanently disabled and pre-verbal children must be stated clearly for they are fundamental to understanding the argument. Firstly, there is a developmental difference: most children are expected to become fully cognitive adults. This gives a preparatory function to any child pedagogy; the children’s minister is always looking to the time when they can understand more. This is not the case in disability theology, rather it is about accepting the individual where they are now (e.g. Jacober, 2017, chap. 11; Hardwick, 2021: 41–59). If this approach is used with children, then it would seem inherently problematic and short-sighted. Secondly, there is the experiential difference. The life experiences of a child (particularly pre-verbal) would be fewer than that of a cognitively impaired adult. This will impact the perspective and perceptions involved; a child is not the same as a cognitively disabled adult despite there being some similarities.

The question then becomes sharper: how does someone with significantly impaired cognitive functioning begin to engage with God? One popular approach has been to see the sacraments as speaking more clearly than verbal revelation (see Tataryn and Truchan-Tataryn, 2013; and to a lesser extent Eiesland, 1994). Speaking as an evangelical, this would not provide a satisfactory account or path, although it is an interesting approach and does have something to contribute to the importance of, particularly, baptism in this context. Others, coming out of personal experience, appear to overextend the incarnation in a way that would appear to conflict with an evangelical account which limits the incarnation to God the Son, despite the attraction and popularity of the work (See Nouwen, 1997: 38). In this vein is Arthur’s Call, by Frances Young. Young describes her care for her son, Arthur, a man with profound learning disabilities, and illustrates the positives of Arthur’s condition which the world regards as negative. She sees in Arthur a vulnerability and dependence which is critical for faith, but which is generally despised in the adult world (Young, 2014: 158). This has much to contribute yet perhaps the reliance on personal account limits its universality for others (as perhaps is Wilson and Wilson, 2015: 120). Young’s work has proved fruitful more recently in providing an understanding of the atonement that is inclusive of those with disability as they are rather than as an exception (McLachlan, 2021) and Swinton has picked up on the issue of those with profound intellectual disability as providing a prophetic witness (Swinton, 2020).

A more coherent thesis comes from John Swinton who applies an understanding of the imago Dei to the disabled person. For Swinton, God establishes the relationship with the disabled adult entirely through grace. The critical response of the person is one of dependence, which is more straightforward for a vulnerable adult (and in our case, a child) than an adult with full cognitive function; ‘the witness of scripture would suggest that in fact it is those who seek to assert their autonomy, their independence from God and His community who have an inability to enter into His saving grace’ (Swinton, 1997: 22–23). Instead, Swinton argues, communication comes within relationship; it is interpersonal and embodied. This is critical for someone who is not verbal or cognitively impaired. Instead within a framework informed by his practice he seeks the ‘development of a truly relational theology, based on criteria independent of, or at least not determined by, intellect’ (Swinton, 1997: 24). This would then operate in terms of the parent or carer functioning in the place of God: that by loving they learn the love of God, by a demonstration of faithfulness they learn to trust. In this way the ‘the transcendent love of God is mediated through, and experienced in, temporal love, offered in loving relationships’ (Swinton, 1997: 24). Whilst this may cause evangelical minds to be concerned it is not entirely inconsistent with a parent’s practice in caring for a baby. Developmentalist James Fowler describes the first 18 months as the time where the child is imparted with a ‘rudimentary sense of basic trust’ (Fowler, 1995: 54; see also Bridger, 2000: 58).

Swinton develops his thesis later in Becoming Friends of Time, where he spends time considering serious intellectual disabilities which prevent cognitive or particular propositional knowing (Swinton, 2016). He walks the line between relational and propositional knowing. His focus on the person of Jesus is constructive; at the point of beginning a relationship little propositional knowledge is necessary for that relationship to be established; it usually comes later and grows with time and ability, but it does not necessarily prevent the establishment of said friendship. This is true of knowing Jesus. Swinton writes, ‘Jesus called the disciples to himself, not to an idea, a creed, or an ideal but to himself. Over time they learned what it meant to know things about him. However, that was not the criterion for their discipleship; it was the consequence of their discipleship’ (Swinton, 2016: 101). In fact, there are times where the disciples understanding of Jesus was seriously deficient, Peter being a case in point (Matt. 16:21–23, 18:21–22, 19:27–28, Mark 9:5–6), and yet they were still disciples.

The instigation of relationship does not require, in the first instance, cognitive or propositional knowing but a person. This is not to deny the importance of cognitive knowing for the growth and development of faith and this is where child theology will inevitably part company with disability theology. The child has the possibility of growing in cognitive and propositional knowledge in a way that the cognitively impaired adult may not. Yet Swinton holds the two aspects in tension; every time he seems to underplay propositional theology, he then steers back to underline its importance. He writes,

faith seems more like trust than like propositional knowledge. Not that propositional knowledge is not important. It is simply that, for the original disciples at least, propositional knowledge was something that emerged from the experience of trusting in Jesus rather than the other way around (Swinton, 2016: 104).

For Swinton there is no divide between knowing and knowing about. They are intimately connected.

What is the place of the cognitive knower in Swinton’s theology? Here he sees a corporate dynamic at play in the work of the church. As God gives different gifts to the church, one of those gifts is to give intellectual abilities, more to some than others. Those with cognitive disabilities (and children) display a vulnerable dependence which teaches the church; the role of those with greater intellectual ability is to study doctrine which,

expands our imaginations and helps the church (all of us together) to imagine God more clearly and accurately and in so doing facilitate practices and ways of being in the world that are in line with God's intentions and Jesus' calling (Swinton, 2016: 107).

This is worked out in some being called to write journal articles and teach, whilst others sit under their learning. This shapes the church to live Christianly; an embodied theology which speaks to those who have no words. This can be applied to child theology as follows: relationship is by divine initiative, not based on cognitive knowing, but cognitive knowing is both stimulated by and stimulates an embodied knowing that is lived out in the adult-child relationship.

Swinton has been critiqued from a more traditional Reformed standpoint by George Hammond. Following Barth, Swinton understands the imago Dei as consisting of relationship. Hammond then questions the consequences for those with cognitive disabilities which seriously impair relationship (Hammond, 2017: 105). The same would be true of nursing infants; do they somehow bear the image in a lesser sense? Are there degrees of the image in a person dependent on their relational abilities? It would seem unlikely. Instead, Hammond understands the imago Dei as follows: a human being is God’s image, rather than bears God’s image. The ‘miscalculation has been in understanding and expressing these aspects [eg relationship, rationality, etc] as constituting the imago Dei rather than seeing these aspects as consequential of man’s being made as the image of God’ (Hammond, 2017: 166). Swinton’s approach therefore undermines the disabled person as a sinner, ‘making faith antecedent to regeneration’ rather than a response to it (Hammond, 2017: 200). That is not to say Swinton’s contribution is not invaluable; a focus on the embodied ministry that is required in infant children is critical within relationship and in establishing relationship. However, Hammond’s point is that the cognitively disabled (and infant children) have the capacity to enter relationship with God simply by being human.

This leads neatly onto the final contribution from disability theology which will be considered. In a recent article Jill Harshaw draws attention to the value of the doctrine of accommodation when approaching those with cognitive disabilities, and consequentially children (Harshaw, 2016). Accommodation begins with an understanding that God has stooped in order to make Himself understood by human beings. This is necessary even for the most intellectually capable person and allows the possibility that God would stoop beyond in order to communicate with those who are non-verbal. This may not be God’s normative way of communicating but it is at least a possibility. Harshaw draws on Gregory of Nyssa’s writing to develop the metaphor of ‘a mother or father of a newborn infant, stooping below or, perhaps … beyond the level of verbal expression’ (Harshaw, 2016: 149). This is striking, but it is hard to know exactly what this looks like in practice. In developmental terms it does give those in children’s ministry warrant to ‘stoop’ in their teaching to be understood.

Analysis

Having considered a conflict at the heart of contemporary children’s ministry and examined the contribution of disability theology as well as its limitations, it is now possible to analyse three aspects. First, the gaining of the knowledge of/about God is an essential aspect of the growth and development of the Christian. Second, the teacher/adult serves as an embodied gospel and model of discipleship. And third, all elements of the children’s ministry contribute towards Christian formation of the child.

First, the perspective of disability theology gives a sense that while cognitive understanding is not essential for establishing relationship and encounter between God and the child it is a critical aspect of development and growth. This comes from observing the contrast between the child and a cognitively disabled adult. The child is expected to develop in multiple ways, including cognitively; a disabled adult is at a developmentally different point and may not gain further processing ability. As a child’s body grows so it needs more food to sustain it, in the same way as the child’s brain develops so it will only be satisfied by greater cognitive feeding. It will depend on the individual child as to what form this takes in practice but to undermine the cognitive possibilities of the child by a rejection of the developmental frame or by rejecting knowing about as a function of children’s ministry is likely to leave the child dissatisfied.

Timothy Paul Jones and Michael Wilder’s criticism of the developmental paradigm is instructive here. Jones writes, ‘what the social-scientific theorists have described as “faith development” relates more closely to the biblical concept of wisdom’ (Jones and Wilder, 2010: 189). This separates disability theology and child theology in practice; a child is expected to grow in wisdom, whereas it is possible that a cognitively disabled adult will not. It is a key part of children’s ministry that a child is helped and encouraged to grow in wisdom in preparation for their adult lives. Whilst knowing Bible facts does not equal wisdom they are closely connected. As a child grows in their relationship with God and learns to live as disciples in the world, there is an inevitable necessity to deepen their factual knowledge of God, His Word, and His world.

Pedagogically this would mean seeking to stretch each child in what they know. It would mean moving beyond the simple ‘I wonder’ questions of Godly Play and, perhaps, positing philosophical conundrums that arise out of the passage, for example, ‘I wonder why Jesus would tell us to pray here when He already knows what’s going to happen’. There may even be a place for rote learning and memorisation for some children. The focus, however, would be more on helping them synthesise that content into a coherent whole which enables character development and the formulation of wisdom. A false dichotomy of knowing and knowing about is as detrimental as a myopic focus on content transfer to a child’s pilgrimage in life.

Second, the approach of disability theology gives the perspective that the adult or teacher involved is most effective when they serve as an embodiment of the gospel and as a model of discipleship for the child to see and emulate. Disability theology, in particular the work of Swinton, has highlighted the formational and teaching aspect of how the adult behaves in the learner’s presence. This would seem a significant challenge for children’s ministry.

Those processes which lie more towards the Instructional-Analytic Method have focused on what is taught and less on who is teaching. Some UK publications have little mention of the adult at all (Masters, 1991; Clark et al., 2005; Kessell, 2018). Jerome Berryman’s Godly Play, on the other hand, is keen to keep the influence of the adult away from the children (e.g. see Berryman, 2009: 65). What this means is that in both methods the adult need not be a Christian: they either perform the role of transferring information, or are as absent as possible. Swinton’s observations suggest that the adult is a significant influence for communication and formation whether that is intentional or accidental.

In this model the adult is clear that they have power and influence but are also clear that they are not an all-knowing guru. Instead, they are someone who can demonstrate the impact of Jesus on their own life and carefully share how the passage they have also experienced has impacted them. This would suggest that the role of the adult is as a fellow pilgrim, but a more experienced fellow pilgrim; someone who is ahead on the journey and can warn of the mountain tops and the valley lows. There is a responsibility on the more experienced and knowledgeable adult to teach, guide and model faith in Christ.

This leads to a third reflection that all elements of a session contribute towards the formation of the child. This means that the child will learn as much, if not more, from the ‘hidden’ curriculum (Westerhoff, 2012: 14–16). This refers to what the child learns from how the session progresses: those aspects which communicate what is important and the way the child is formed by being a part of those rituals and routines. Where Godly Play has a clear theological rationale for every element of the session, contemporary evangelical processes appear to be less considered outside of the specific teaching element. Often how a session is taught appears to have much less consideration than what is taught. In many UK publications, there is no explanation for how the child is seated or enters the room or what that communicates to them. There is no clear rationale for the opening activities or the activity time following the teaching (Clark et al., 2005; Kessell, 2018; Masters, 1991; Johnson and Watkinson, no date).

That is not to say these aspects do not communicate and form the child, this is Westerhoff’s point, and disability theology brings this to the fore. Instead, it appears to be a very weak aspect of evangelical children’s ministry. It would seem that further research and development must be done to develop a robust and theologically coherent framework that understands the formation of the child. This would consider all elements of a children’s ministry session and replace or reconfigure each aspect accordingly. There is a requirement to give a better account for these ritualised processes within evangelical children’s ministry.

Conclusion

Disability theology has given some perspective to the knowing versus knowing about debate that has been persistent in children’s ministry literature over the last 30 years. The twin extremes which have been argued, best represented by the Contemplative-Reflective approach with its downplaying of cognitive knowing and the Instructional-Analytic model with its overemphasis on learning facts, have been carefully navigated. Three reflections were suggested in light of this comparison: the essential role of knowledge in the growth and development of the child; the importance of the role of the adult in faith formation; and the holistic nature of how formation occurs in a children’s ministry session. Some shortcomings were observed and areas for progress suggested from these reflections.