The news out of Penn State and the vulnerability of my oldest son, who could never tell us if someone was hurting him, make me very grateful that Bethlehem takes the safety of children seriously. It begins in their vision statement for child and youth discipleship, written by Pastor David Michael, who is also a champion for our children with disabilities:
We believe that God is honored when persons created in his image are treated with honor and love for the sake of Christ. Therefore we stand firmly against the cultural trend of cheapening and dishonoring human life.
It is so important that protecting children has been imbedded in the Relational Commitments that are part of the Church Covenant all members affirm.
I love my church, but with almost 5000 people attending on three different campuses I know there are child predators attending. Some are fighting that sin but remain a risk to children. And there are those who are seeking to take advantage of children and believe a big church would give them easy access. Yes, that sickens me, but we don’t have any choice but to proactively protect all children, including our children who cannot communicate or are otherwise vulnerable because of their disabilities.
I’m very grateful for so many things at Bethlehem related to this issue:
- A clear warning about the reality of sin and the need to fight it
- The call for men to be protectors of the vulnerable; to serve them and not to use them and certainly never to abuse them
- Strong statements about the blessing that all children are
- Proclamation of God’s regard for the vulnerable, and the consequences of his wrath for those who would hurt them
- Background checks for all volunteers
- A rotating check-in system
- Clear standards for conduct by volunteers, including observing the behavior of other volunteers/staff around children
- Using the civil authorities (police, etc) when a child is in danger
The Works of God 
“He is welcome here.”
November 9, 2011 by John Knight
It was surreal. I was carrying my 16-year-old son through a sea of typically-developing high school students. They were all so. . . . independent and articulate and put together.
What does a boy who lives with blindness, autism, cognitive disabilities, and eating, sleeping and seizure disorders have in common with these young people?
It made me ask of myself, do I really believe that my son is indispensable to this group?
Yet, when Pastor Kempton said, “he is welcome here,” the tears came, because I believed him. And he wasn’t speaking to me, but to that same sea of young people now seated in the young adult Sunday School class. It was a personal, public proclamation.
After 16 years, disability is no longer a new concept in our family. Yet the same questions still rise in my mind – will he be accepted? Will he have a place? Will he be safe and affirmed and loved? God grants Paul inherent dignity and value, but it is still nice to hear words of affirmation.
We have details to work out; Paul may never be a regular participant in that class. He slept through his whole introduction because his days and nights are mixed up again.
And I have no illusions about American teenagers at my church. I know some of them may have our culture’s strange, unbiblical view about the worth of people with severe disabilities confirmed by Paul’s unusual movements and noises, or sleepiness.
But how sweet it is to hear those words of welcome and not have a single doubt those words are true not just from this one man, but from the very heart of my church.
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