Accepting Autism
One of the joys of being a few steps ahead on this journey of raising an autistic disciple—and all the “collaterals” that go with it—is being able to encourage and equip those who are a few steps behind.
I praise God continually for the moms and dads raising autistic disciples who were a few steps ahead of me and did the same for me.
So when an autism mom, whose child was recently diagnosed, asked me a question, I knew exactly where it was coming from. Because I had navigated it myself.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to accept autism. When did you?”
It was only by the power of the Holy Spirit that I was able to respond.
I didn’t have a prepared answer.
I didn’t have a tidy framework.
I just felt the Lord bring something to mind that had clearly been forming long before that moment.
She said,
“I’ve been a follower of Jesus since I was younger. I grew up in church. I studied the Scriptures. I know the gospel. But when my child was diagnosed autistic a year ago… I just feel stuck. I want to get past this phase so I can move forward, but I can’t seem to get out of this place of accepting it.”
If you’re an autism parent, you may can relate.
Before I go any further, I want to say this clearly: every journey is different.
We all process differently.
Our family dynamics are different.
Our kids are different.
And that’s not accidental. That’s on purpose.
So take this with a grain of salt. Use the fish-and-bones approach. Keep what’s helpful. Let the rest pass by.
I took a deep breath, quietly asked the Lord for help, and then I invited her into a passage where Jesus is speaking with Peter after his denial.
John 21:15-25
Jesus has risen from the grave.
He’s appeared to the disciples.
They’ve walked with Him again.
And now we find Him here—by the water—with Peter.
Peter.
The rock.
The one Jesus said the Church would be built upon.
But Peter isn’t feeling much like a rock.
He’s carrying the weight of what happened just days before.
The memory of words he wishes he could pull back.
The quiet shame that settles in after failure.
The fire pit is going. The setting is calm—but it’s tense.
And Jesus asks Peter a question.
Not once.
Not twice.
But again and again.
“Do you love Me?”
Each time, Peter answers the same way:
“Yes, Lord. You know that I love You.”
And each time, Jesus responds with an invitation.
“Feed my sheep.”
“Tend my lambs.”
“And finally—follow Me.”
But here’s what struck me in that moment.
Peter doesn’t argue.
He doesn’t defend himself.
He doesn’t try to explain away the denial.
He’s still sitting in shame.
Still weighed down by regret.
Still living in the space of unworthiness.
And Jesus doesn’t wait for Peter to resolve all of that before responding.
Peter is still sitting in the weight of his mistakes.
Still tangled in regret.
Still not feeling like “the rock” Jesus once named him.
And yet—Jesus doesn’t say, Come back when you’ve worked through this.
He doesn’t wait for Peter to feel like the bold “rock” he once was.
Instead, Jesus speaks forward into Peter’s life.
He tells him how he will one day die—a death that will glorify God.
A future faithfulness Peter cannot yet imagine for himself.
Which tells us something profound.
Just like Peter, there are seasons where we are in a place we cannot yet get out of. We know where we want to be. We know what we wish we felt. But we’re not there yet.
And Jesus doesn’t say,
“Come back when you’ve processed this better.”
“Let me know when you’re done wrestling.”
“Once you accept this fully, then I can use you.”
Instead, His response sounds more like this:
“I’ll take that.”
“I can use that.”
“Right where you are is exactly where I want you.”
“And I will be the one who helps you out of it—in time.”
How do I know this? Because God’s Word does not return void.
What Jesus spoke over Peter by that fire did exactly what it was sent to do.
And in time, we see it fulfilled.
Jesus really does build His Church upon the rock—the very one who once denied Him.
Peter would be a great missionary and pioneer for the gospel.
Not because Peter proved himself strong enough,
but because Christ proved Himself faithful enough.
Which should tell every parent sitting in the long, quiet work of acceptance something important:
God is not finished with you.
And He is not wasting this season.
So what does that have to do with accepting an autism diagnosis?
I think… everything.
Because God is not waiting for you to perfectly accept this before He works.
He is not stalled by your processing.
He is not limited by the phase you’re in.
So stop beating yourself up for being in the “accepting phase” and wanting to move past it.
It may be that this very phase is teaching you what you’re going to need for the next one.
Don’t listen to the loud voices that tell you to accept it quickly and move on.
That pressure is often unkind—and sometimes unhealthy.
Accepting autism looks different for each of us.
There is no stopwatch.
There is no spiritual shortcut.
But here is the common denominator we can cling to:
God is working for His glory and for your good—even here.
Especially here.