Neurodiverse Liberation Theology: A Beginner’s Guide (With Anecdotes and Awkward Humour Included)

Wait… Theology Has a Neurodiverse Version?

If you’ve never heard of neurodiverse liberation theology, don’t worry: you’re not alone. Theologians haven’t exactly been queuing up to write about it (yet), but it’s an idea whose time has come. If you’re neurodivergent yourself, you might already be practising neurodiverse liberation theology without even realising it - just like how I accidentally ended up leading an informal Bible study by info-dumping about the nuances of apocalyptic literature (they let me keep going, so I took that as encouragement from my somewhat captive audience).

In simple terms, neurodiverse liberation theology is about how God’s kingdom is good news for neurodivergent people: not because it erases our differences, but because it values them. It argues that neurodivergence isn’t something to be "overcome" but something that can reveal deeper truths about God and how we relate to the world. And, crucially, it insists that churches need to move beyond mere "inclusion" to genuine empowerment - letting neurodivergent people not only belong but lead, shape theology, and challenge the status quo.

Neurodivergence in the Bible: Elijah’s Burnout and Jesus’ Tangents

When people say, "There’s no neurodivergence in the Bible!", I have to wonder if we’re reading the same book. Because honestly? The Bible is full of people who think and act in ways that today would get them a formal diagnosis.

Take Elijah, for example. After pulling off the most dramatic showdown in prophetic history (fire-from-heaven levels of dramatic), he spirals into an exhaustion-fuelled meltdown, tells God he wants to die, and hides in a cave. That’s not just "being tired": that’s burnout. And what does God do? Not tell him to snap out of it, but provide food, rest, and a quiet, low-stimulation environment. A sensory-friendly divine encounter, if you will.

Or look at Jesus. Have you ever noticed how often he answers questions with seemingly unrelated tangents? A Pharisee asks about taxes, and Jesus starts talking about Caesar’s face on a coin. Someone asks him about eternal life, and he responds with a parable that seems at first to be only vaguely related. Classic autistic-style communication; thinking in patterns, making unexpected connections, and refusing to be trapped in black-and-white thinking.

If neurodivergent traits are woven into the Bible’s greatest figures, why are we so often told they’re something that needs to be "fixed" before we can fully belong in the Church?

Beyond "Inclusion": The Call to Liberation

Now, let’s talk about the dreaded neurodivergent church experience.

Most neurodivergent Christians have at least one horror story about church services that felt like sensory torture. (Flashing lights, overwhelming music, and a well-meaning usher who seems waaaaaay too desperate to hug you!)

At best, many churches approach neurodivergence as something to be accommodated. "Oh, you have ADHD? You can sit at the back if the sermon is too long." "Oh, you’re autistic? You can wear headphones, just try not to make a big deal about it."

But liberation theology doesn’t stop at inclusion. It pushes for empowerment. It asks:

• What if neurodivergent people weren’t just "allowed" in church spaces but helped shape them?

• What if sermons were structured with neurodiverse brains in mind—maybe with visual aids, interactive discussions, and a complete absence of guilt-tripping about "losing focus"?

• What if leadership wasn’t just about charisma but also about deep analytical thinking, pattern recognition, and an ability to challenge harmful traditions?

Instead of making neurodivergent people adapt to neurotypical church culture, neurodiverse liberation theology argues that the Church should adapt to us, not out of pity, but because it genuinely makes the Church better.

The Transformative Power of a Neurodivergent-Friendly Church

I spent years assuming that my faith would always be a bit of a lonely experience. Sure, I loved Jesus, but I didn’t always love church culture. I struggled with loud worship sessions, unspoken social expectations, and having no-one who wanted to engage in meaningful conversations instead of the dreaded small-talk.

Then, I stumbled into a church that was (unexpectedly) led by a disproportionately high number of neurodivergent people. And everything changed.

At first, I thought it was just a coincidence. But the more I got involved, the more I realised that the very things I had been told made me "unsuited" for church service were the exact things that were valued here. My ability to hyperfocus on theology? Useful. My occasional blunt honesty? Refreshing. My resistance to empty platitudes and theological clichés? Encouraged.

Here, leadership wasn’t about who could "network" the best or give the most polished sermons; it was about who had been called by God. And let me tell you, when neurodivergent people lead, the church starts to feel different:

• No one gets weird about needing a break from social interaction (phew).

• Honesty is encouraged (no "church mask" required).

• If you need to info-dump about niche theology at a small group, go for it. Someone will probably be excited.

Being in this church changed my entire perspective. I realised that I didn’t need to compensate for being neurodivergent in order to serve God. Instead, I could serve because I was neurodivergent.

What Comes Next? Reimagining the Church

If the Church is truly to reflect God’s kingdom, then it needs to make room for the full diversity of his creation, including neurodivergent people, not just as an afterthought, but as essential voices in theology, ministry, and leadership.

Neurodiverse liberation theology calls for a Church where:

• Autistic people don’t have to pretend to be extroverted to be taken seriously.

• ADHDers aren’t judged for engaging with Scripture in dynamic, non-linear ways.

• Dyslexic pastors aren’t overlooked because they struggle with traditional sermon formats.

• The entire body of Christ learns from the unique perspectives and gifts that neurodivergence brings.

This isn’t about being "politically correct" or "soft", it’s about recognising that when the Church truly empowers all of its members, it becomes more of what God intended it to be.

So, to all the neurodivergent Christians who have ever felt like they don’t quite fit: You are not an accident. Your brain is not a mistake. And the Church desperately needs you just as you are.

And to all the churches out there who are trying to do better: Keep going. Listen. Make space. And don’t be afraid to let the info-dumpers, pattern-seekers, and deep thinkers lead.

You might just find that they see God’s kingdom more clearly than you ever imagined.